REVISED 
EDITION 


AMERICAN  •  BOOK  •  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK:  CINCINNATI  •  CHICAGO 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


PHILIP  WHALEN  COLLECTION 


THE  PETER  AND  ROSELL  HARVEY 
MEMORIAL  FUND 


ECLECTIC  EDUCATIONAL  SERIES. 


FIFTH 


ECLECTIC    READER. 


REVISED  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN    BOOK    COMPANY 


Copyright,  1879,  by  VAN  ANTWERP,  BRAGG  &  Co. 

Copyright,  1896,  by  AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1907  and  1920,  by  H.  H.  VAIL. 


M'O.  REV     STM    KG. 

K.P.  199 


PREFACE. 


THE  plan  of  the  revision  of  MCGUFFEY'S  FIFTH  READER 
is  the  same  as  that  pursued  in  the  other  books  of  the 
REVISED  SERIES.  The  book  has  been  considerably  en- 
larged, but  the  new  pieces  have  been  added  or  substituted 
only  aftei  the  most  careful  consideration,  and  where  the 
advantages  to  be  derived  were  assured. 

It  has  been  the  object  to  obtain  as  wide  a  range  of  lead- 
ing authors  as  possible,  to  present  the  best  specimens  of 
style,  to  insure  interest  in  the  subjects,  to  impart  valuable 
information,  and  to  exert  a  decided  and  healthful  moral  in- 
fluence. Thus  the  essential  characteristics  of  MCGUFFEY'S 
READERS  have  been  carefully  kept  intact. 

The  preliminary  exercises  have  been  retained,  and  are 
amply  sufficient  for  drill  in  articulation,  inflection,  etc. 
The  additional  exercises  on  these  subjects,  formerly  inserted 
between  the  lessons,  have  been  omitted  to  make  room  for 
other  valuable  features  of  the  REVISED  SERIES. 

A  full  understanding  of  the  text  is  necessary  in  order  to 
read  it  properly.  As  all  the  books  of  reference  required 
for  this  purpose  are  not  within  the  reach  of  the  majority 
of  pupils,  full  explanatory  notes  have  been  given,  which, 
it  is  believed,  will  add  greatly  not  only  to  the  interest 
of  the  reading  lessons,  but  also  to  their  usefulness  from 
an  instructive  point  of  view. 

(iii) 


iv  PREFACE. 

The  definitions  of  the  more  difficult  words  have  been 
given,  as  formerly ;  and  the  pronunciation  has  been  indi- 
cated by  diacritical  marks,  in  conformity  with  the  preced- 
ing books  of  the  REVISED  SERIES. 

Particular  attention  is  invited  to  the  notices  of  authors. 
Comparatively  few  pupils  have  the  opportunity  of  making 
a  separate  study  of  English  and  American  literature,  and 
the  carefully  prepared  notices  in  the  REVISED  SERIES  are 
designed,  therefore,  to  supply  as  much  information  in  re- 
gard to  the  leading  authors  as  is  possible  in  the  necessarily 
limited  space  assigned. 

The  publishers  have  desired  to  illustrate  MCGUFFEY'S 
READERS  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  text  and  of  the  high 
favor  in  which  they  are  held  throughout  the  United  States. 
The  most  celebrated  designers  and  engravers  of  the  country 
have  been  employed  for  this  purpose. 

It  has  been  the  privilege  of  the  publishers  to  submit  the 
REVISED  SERIES  to  numerous  eminent  educators  in  all 
parts  of  the  country.  To  the  careful  reviews  and  criti- 
cisms of  these  gentlemen  is  due,  in  a  large  measure,  the 
present  form  of  MCGUFFEY'S  READERS.  The  value  of 
these  criticisms,  coming  from  practical  sources  of  the  high- 
est authority,  can  not  well  be  overestimated,  and  the  pub- 
lishers take  this  occasion  to  express  their  thanks  and  their 
indebtedness  to  all  who  have  thus  kindly  assisted  them  in 
this  work. 

Especial  acknowledgment  is  due  to  Messrs.  Houghton, 
Osgood  &  Co.  for  their  permission  to  make  liberal  selec- 
tions from  their  copyright  editions  of  many  of  the  foremost 
American  authors  whose  works  they  publish. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY  MATTER. 

SUBJECT.  PAS* 

I.    PRELIMINARY  REMARKS  .       ..        .        *-       *        .        *  • 

II.   ARTICULATION      .        .  .      .-.        .     <  .        .        .    .-'*..  • 

III.  INFLECTIONS         .         .  .         .  •---.-.        •        •        .         .  15 

IV.  ACCENT        .        .        .  .   -    ,        .        ...»        .  26 
V.    EMPHASIS     .        .        .  .         »        .        *        .        .         .  27 

VI.   MODULATION        .         .  .      .  .        .        .         ...  30 

VTI.   POETIC  PAUSES    ...  *        .        .      .  ,        *        .        .  33 

EXERCISES  .        .  .      . 34 


SELECTIONS  IN   PROSE  AND  POETRY. 

TITLE.                                                                       AUTHOR.  PAG« 

1.  The  Good  Reader 39 

2.  The  Bluebell  .        .        .        . 43 

3.  The  Gentle  Hand   .        ...        .        .    T.S.Arthur.  44 

4.  The  Grandfather    .        ...        .         C.  G.  Eastman.  49 

5.  A  Boy  on  a  Farm C.  D.  Warner.  60 

6.  The  Singing  Lesson                .        .        .        .  Jean  Ingelow.  52 

7.  Do  not  Meddle       .        .....        .        .        .54 

8.  Work      .        .        .        .        .        .                 .       Eliza  Cook.  59 

9.  The  Maniac    ...        .        .        .  .        .        .60 

10.  Robin  Redbreast    .        .        .         .        .          W.  Allingham.  62 

11.  The  Fish  I  Did  n't  Catch Whittier.  63 

12.  It  Snows Mrs.  S.  J.  Hale.  67 

13.  Respect  for  the  Sabbath  Rewarded 69 

14.  The  Sands  b'  Dee  .        .        .        .        .     Charles  Kingsley.  71 

15.  Select  Paragraphs  .        .        ...        .        .        .        Bible.  72 

16.  The  Corn  Song       .        .        .        .        .        .        .  Whittier.  74 

17.  The  Venomous  Worm    •        ...        .    John  Russell.  77 

18.  The  Festal  Board  .        .        . 78 

19.  How  to  Tell  Bad  News  . 81 


Yi  CONTENTS. 

TITLE.                                                                         AUTHOR.  PAOB 

20.  The  Battle  of  Blenheim  ...'...  Southey.  82 

21.  I  Pity  Them 85 

22.  An  Elegy  on  Madam  Blaize    ....         Goldsmith.  87 

23.  King  Charles  II.  and  William  Penn       .     Mason  L.  Weems.  88 

24.  What  I  Live  For 91 

25.  The  Righteous  Never  Forsaken 92 

26.  Ahou  Ben  Adhem Leigh  Hunt.  95 

27.  Lucy  Forrester John  Wilson.  96 

28.  The  Reaper  and  the  Flowers  ....       Longfellow.  101 

29.  The  Town  Pump Hawthorne.  103 

30.  Good  Night Peter  Parley.  108 

31.  An  Old-fashioned  Girl    ....     Louisa  M.  Alcott.  110 

32.  My  Mother's  Hands 113 

33.  The  Discontented  Pendulum  ....     Jane  Taylor.  114 

34.  The  Death  of  the  Flowers      .                                       Bryant.  117 
36.  The  Thunderstorm Irving.  119 

36.  April  Day Mrs.  C.  A.  Southey.  121 

37.  The  Tea  Rose 123 

38.  The  Cataract  of  Lodore Southey.  128 

39.  The  Bobolink Irving.  132 

40.  Robert  of  Lincoln Bryant.  135 

41.  Rebellion  in  Massachusetts  State  Prison    J.  T.  Buckingham.  138 

42.  Faithless  Nelly  Gray Hood.  143 

43.  The  Generous  Russian  Peasant      .        .     Nikolai  Karamzin.  146 

44.  Forty  Years  Ago 148 

45.  Mrs.  Caudle's  Lecture    ....       Douglas  Jerrold.  151 

46.  The  Village  Blacksmith Longfellow.  154 

47.  The  Relief  of  Lucknow  .        .        .        .     "London  Times."  156 

48.  The  Snowstorm Thomson.  159 

49.  Behind  Time 161 

60.  The  Old  Sampler    ....        Mrs.  M.  E.  Songster.  163 

'51.  The  Goodness  of  God Bible.  167 

'52.  My  Mother 170 

63.  The  Hour  of  Prayer       .        .        .          Mrs.  F.  D.  Hemans.  171 

54.  The  Will 172 

65.  The  Nose  and  the  Eyes Cowper.  176 

56.  An  Iceberg L.  L.  Noble  177 

67.  About  Quail W.  P.  Hawe&.  180 

58.  The  Blue  and  the  Gray F.  M.  Finch.  183 

69.  The  Machinist's  Return          .        .  Washington  "Capital."  186 

60.  Make  Way  for  Liberty  .        .        .         James  Montgomery.  189 

61.  The  English  Skylark Elihu  Burritt.  193 

62.  How  Sleep  the  Brave      ....        William  Collins.  195 

63.  The  Rainbow                                                           John  Keble.  196 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

TITLB.                                                                            AUTHOR.  PAO* 

64.  Supposed  Speech  of  John  Adams         .        Daniel  Webster,  196 

65.  The  Rising T.  B.  Read.  200 

66.  Control  your  Temper    ....         Dr.  John  Todd.  204 

67.  William  Tell Sheridan  Knowles.  207 

68.  William  Tell Sheridan  Knowles.  216 

69.  The  Crazy  Engineer 221 

70.  The  Heritage Lowell.  228 

71.  No  Excellence  without  Labor       .        .        .  William  Wirt.  230 

72.  The  Old  House  Clock 232 

73.  The  Examination D.P.Thompson.  234 

74.  The  Isle  of  Long  Ago B.  F.  Taylor.  239 

75.  The  Boston  Massacre Bancroft.  241 

76.  Death  of  the  Beautiful ....    Mrs.  E.  L.  Follen.  245 

77.  Snow  Falling J.  J.  Piatt.  246 

78.  Squeers's  Method Dickens.  247 

79.  The  Gift  of  Empty  Hands    .         .          Mrs.  S.  M.  B.  Piatt,  252 

80.  Capturing  the  Wild  Horse Irving.  253 

81.  Sowing  and  Reaping     .        .        .    Adelaide  Anne  Procter.  258 

82.  Taking  Comfort Whittier.  259 

83.  Calling  the  Roll Shepherd.  262 

84.  Turtle  Soup C.  F.  Briggs.  263 

85.  The  Best  Kind  of  Revenge 266 

86.  The  Soldier  of  the  Rhine       .        .       Mrs.  C.  E.  S.  Norton.  269 

87.  The  Winged  Worshipers       .        .        .       Charles  Sprague.  271 

88.  The  Peevish  Wife          ....     Maria  Edgeworth.  273 

89.  The  Rainy  Day Longfellow.  276 

90.  Break,  Break,  Break Tennyson.  277 

91.  Transportation  and  Planting  of  Seeds  .         H.  D.  Thoreau.  278 

92.  Spring  Again Mrs.  Celia  Thaxter.  282 

93.  Religion  the  only  Basis  of  Society      William  E.  Channing.  284 

94.  Rock  Me  to  Sleep          ....     Mrs.  E.  A.  Allen.  286 

95.  Man  and  the  Inferior  Animals      .        .        .     Jane  Taylor.  288 

96.  The  Blind  Men  and  the  Elephant         .        .       J.  G.  Saxe.  290 

97.  A  Home  Scene D.  G.  Mitchell.  292 

98.  The  Light  of  Other  Days Moore.  295 

99.  A  Chase  in  the  English  Channel  ....     Cooper.  296 

100.  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore     .        .        .          Charles  Wolfe.  301 

101.  Little  Victories Harriet  Martineau.  302 

102.  The  Character  of  a  Happy  Life    .        .  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  308 

103.  The  Art  of  Discouragement ....  Arthur  Helps.  309 

104.  The  Mariner's  Dream  ....     William  Dimond.  312 

105.  The  Passenger  Pigeon Audubon.  315 

106.  The  Country  Life          .         .        .        .        R.  H.  Stoddard.  319 

107.  The  Virginians Thackeray  321 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

TITLE.                                                                     ATTTHOR.  PAQB 

108.  Minot's  Ledge       .        .        .        .         Fitz-James  O'Brien.  326 

109.  Hamlet .        .        .     •   .        .        .    -  .        .     Shakespeare.  328 

110.  Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig     .         .        .        .  Charles  Lamb.  333 

111.  A  Pen  Picture       .        .        .        .        .          William  Black.  338 

112.  The  Great  Voices C.  T.  Brooks.  342 

113.  A  Picture  of  Human  Life     .         .         .       Samuel  Johnson.  343 

114.  A  Summer  Longing       ....          George  Arnold.  348 

115.  Fate Bret  Harte.  349 

116.  The  Bible  the  Best  of  Classics      .        .        .   T.  S.  Grimke".  350 

117.  My  Mother's  Bible G.  P.  Morris.  351 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

SUBJECT.                                                                            ABTIST.  PAOB 

The  Good  Reader H.  F.  Farny.  39 

The  Fish  I  Did  n't  Catch H.  F.  Farny.  65 

The  Corn  Song E.  K.  Foote.  76 

I  Pity  Them W.  L.  Sheppard.  86 

The  Town  Pump  .                 Howard  Pyle.  105 

Good  Night J.  A.  Knapp.  109 

The  Tea  Rose        ......         C.  S.  Reinhart.  124 

Forty  Years  Ago H.  Fenn.  149 

The  Old  Sampler  .        .        .     .....        Mary  Hallock  Foote.  165 

The  Old  Sampler Mary  Hallock  Foote.  166 

About  Quail.         .         .        .               ..        .       Alexander  Pope.  181 

The  Crazy  Engineer H.  F.  Farny.  222 

Squeers's  Method .        *        .     '.        .        .         .   Howard  Pyle.  249 

Turtle  Soup  .       -.        .        .        .        .'       .       W.  L.  Sheppard.  264 

Hamlet                                                    .        .    Alfred  Fredericks.  330 


INTRODUCTION. 


I.     PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 

THE  great  object  to  be  accomplished  in  reading,  as  a 
rhetorical  exercise,  is  to  convey  to  the  hearer,  fully  and 
clearly,  the  ideas  and  feelings  of  the  writer. 

In  order  to  do  this,  it  is  necessary  that  a  selection  should  be  carefully 
studied  by  the  pupil  before  he  attempts  to  read  it.  In  accordance  with 
this  view,  a  preliminary  rule  of  importance  is  the  following : 

RULE  I.  —  Before  attempting  to  read  a  lesson,  the  learner 
should  make  himself  fully  acquainted  with  the  subject  as 
treated  of  in  that  lesson,  and  endeavor  to  make  the  thought 
and  feeling  and  sentiments  of  the  writer  his  own. 

REMARK.  —  When  he  has  thus  identified  himself  with  the  author,  he 
has  the  substance  of  all  rules  in  his  own  mind.  It  is  by  going  to  nature 
that  we  find  rules.  The  child  or  the  savage  orator  never  mistakes  in 
inflection  or  emphasis  or  modulation.  The  best  speakers  and  readers 
are  those  who  follow  the  impulse  of  nature,  or  most  closely  imitate  it  as 
observed  in  others. 


II.     ARTICULATION. 

Articulation  is  the  utterance  of  the  elementary  sounds  of  a 
language,  and  of  their  combinations. 

An  Elementary  Sound  is  a  simple,  distinct  sound  made  by 
the  organs  of  speech. 

The  Elementary  Sounds  of  the  English  language  are 
divided  into  Foco/s,  Subvocals,  and  Aspirates. 


10  ECLECTIC  SERIES. 

ELEMENTARY  SOUNDS. 
VOCALS. 

Vocals  are  sounds  which  consist  of  pure  tone  only.  A 
diphthong  is  a  union  of  two  vocals,  commencing  with  one 
and  ending  with  the  other. 

DIRECTION.  —  Put  the  lips,  teeth,  tongue,  and  palate  in 
their  proper  position ;  pronounce  the  word  in  the  chart  for- 
cibly, and  with  the  falling  inflection,  several  times  in  succes- 
sion; then  drop  the  sub  vocal  or  aspirate  sounds  which  pre- 
cede or  follow  the  vocal,  and  repeat  the  vocals  alone. 


TABLE  OF  VOCALS. 

Long  Vocals. 

as  in  hate. 

5,  as 

5  in  err. 

"     hare. 

J, 

"     pine. 

**     far. 

6, 

"     no. 

"     pass. 

u, 

"     tube. 

"     fall. 

u, 

"     burn. 

"    eve. 

00, 

"     eool. 

e, 


a,  as  in  mat. 
8,  "  met. 
I,  "  It. 


Short  Vocals. 


6,    as  in  hot. 
u,         «     us. 
06,       "     book. 


Diphthongs. 
oi,  oy,  as  in  oil,  boy.  |  ou,  ow,  as  in  out,  now. 

REMARK  1.  —  In  this  table,  the  short  sounds,  except  G,  are  nearly  or 
quite  the  same  in  quality  as  certain  of  the  long  sounds.  The  difference 
consists  chiefly  in  quantity. 

REMARK  2.  — The  vocals  are  often  represented  by  other  letters  or  com- 
binations of  letters  than  those  used  in  the  table ;  for  instance,  a  is  rep- 
resented by  ai  in  hail,  by  ea  in  steak,  etc. 

REMARK  3.  —  As  a  general  rule,  the  long  vocals  and  the  diphthongs 
should  be  articulated  with  a  full,  clear  utterance ;  but  the  short  vocals 
have  a  sharp,  distinct,  and  almost  explosive  utterance. 


FIFTH    READER. 


11 


SUBVOCALS  AND  ASPIRATES. 

Subvocals  are  those  sounds  in  which  the  vocalized  breath 
is  more  or  less  obstructed. 

Aspirates  consist  of  breath  only,  modified  by  the  vocal 
organs. 

Words  ending  with  subvocal  sounds  should  be  selected  for  practice  on 
the  subvocals ;  words  beginning  or  ending  with  aspirate  sounds  may  be 
used  for  practice  on  the  aspirates.  Pronounce  these  words  forcibly  and 
distinctly  several  times  in  succession  ;  then  drop  the  other  sounds,  and 
repeat  the  subvocals  and  aspirates  alone.  Let  the  class  repeat  the  words 
and  elements  at  first  in  concert,  then  separately. 

TABLE  OF  SUBVOCALS  AND  ASPIRATES. 


Svbvocals. 

b,  as  in  babe. 

d,          "     bad. 

g,          "      nag- 

j,  «     judge. 

v,          "      move. 

a,         "      with. 

z,  "      buzz. 

z,  ««      azure  (azh'ure). 


REMARK.  —  These  sixteen  sounds  make  eight  pairs  of  cognates.  In  ar- 
ticulating the  aspirates,  the  vocal  organs  are  put  in  the  position  required 
in  the  articulation  of  the  corresponding  subvocals ;  but  the  breath  is  ex- 
pelled with  some  force  without  the  utterance  of  any  vocal  sound.  The 
oupil  should  first  verify  this  by  experiment,  and  then  practice  on  these 
cognates. 

The  following  subvocals  and  aspirates  have  no  cognates. 


Aspirates. 

p, 

as  in  r^p. 

t, 

"      at. 

k, 

"      book. 

ch, 

"      rich. 

f, 

"     life. 

th, 

"      Smith. 

s, 

"     hiss. 

sh, 

"      rush. 

1,  as  in  mill. 
m,  "  rim. 
n,  "  run. 
ng,  "  sing. 


SUBVOCALS. 


r,  as  in  rule, 

r,  "    car. 

w,  *'    win. 

y,  "   yet 


ASPIRATES. 


h,  as  in  hat. 


rh,  as  in  whSn. 


12 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


SUBSTITUTES. 

Substitutes  are  characters  used  to  represent  sounds  ordi- 
narily represented  by  other  characters. 

TABLE  OF  SUBSTITUTES. 


a    for 

6, 

as  in  what. 

y 

for 

I, 

as 

in  hymn. 

§      " 

a, 

"      there. 

5 

it 

s, 

"  u 

5ite. 

e      " 

a, 

"      freight. 

€ 

u 

k, 

u 

•cap. 

i      " 

e, 

"     police. 

9h 

it 

sh, 

(t 

machine. 

I      " 

e, 

««      sir. 

«h 

it 

k, 

u 

€haos. 

6      " 

u, 

"      son. 

g 

(( 

1. 

(t 

«age. 

o      " 

66, 

"      to. 

n 

(t 

ng, 

u 

rink. 

0        " 

66, 

"      would. 

§ 

II 

z, 

u 

roge. 

0      " 

a, 

"      €drn. 

s 

" 

sh, 

1  1 

sure. 

0       " 

u, 

44      wOrk. 

$ 

II 

gz, 

(t 

ejamlne. 

u      « 

65, 

»      pull. 

gh 

11 

f, 

t( 

laugh. 

W      " 

66, 

«'      rude. 

ph 

it 

f, 

u 

sylph. 

V        *' 

i, 

«     my. 

qu 

it 

k, 

(  t 

pique. 

qu  for  kw,  as  in  quick. 

FAULTS  TO  BE  REMEDIED. 

DIRECTION.  —  Give  to  each  sound,  to  each  syllable,  and  to 
each  word  its  full,  distinct,  and  appropriate  utterance. 

For  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the  more  common  errors  under  this  head, 
observe  the  following  rules : 

RULE  II.  —  Avoid  the  omission  of  unaccented  vowels. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Sep'rate      for  sep-a-rate. 

met-ric'l  "  met-ric-al. 

'pear  "  ap-pear. 

com-p'tent  "  com-pe-tent. 

pr'cede  **  pre-cede. 

'ape-cial  «*  es-pe-cial. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Ev'dent     for  ev-i-dent. 
**   mem-o-ry. 
"  o-pin-ion. 
"  pro-pose. 
"   gran-'M-lar. 


mem'ry 
'pin -ion 
pr'pose 
gran'lar 


par-tic' lar  **  par-tic- w-lar. 


FIFTH   READER. 


13 


KULE  III.  —  Avoid  sounding  incorrectly  the  unaccented 
vowels. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Sep-er-ate      for  sep-a-rate. 

met-ric-wl  "  met-ric-al. 

wp-pear  "  op-pear, 

com-per-tent  "  com-pe-tent. 

dum-mand  "  de-mand. 

ob-stur-nate  "  ob-sti-nate. 


INCORRECT. 

Mem-er-ry 

wp-pin-ion 

prwp-ose 

gran-ny-lar 

par-tic-e-lar 

ev-er-dent 


for  mem-o-ry. 
"   o-pin-ion. 
"   pro-pose. 
"   gran-u-lar. 
"   par-tic-u-lar. 
"   ev-i-dent. 


REMARK  1.  —  In  correcting  errors  of  this  kind  in  words  of  more  than 
one  syllable,  it  is  very  important  to  avoid  a  fault  which  is  the  natural 
consequence  of  an  effort  to  articulate  correctly.  Thus,  in  endeavoring  to 
sound  correctly  the  a  in  met'ric-al,  the  pupil  is  very  apt  to  say  met-ric-al' ', 
accenting  the  last  syllable  instead  of  the  first. 

REMARK  2.  —  The  teacher  should  bear  it  in  mind  that  in  correcting  a 
fault  there  is  always  danger  of  erring  in  the  opposite  extreme.  Properly 
speaking,  there  is  no  danger  of  learning  to  articulate  too  distinctly,  but 
there  is  danger  of  making  the  obscure  sounds  too  prominent,  and  of  read- 
ing in  a  slow,  measured,  and  unnatural  manner. 

KULE  IV. — Utter  distinctly  the  terminating  subvocals 
and  aspirates. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

An*  for  and. 
ban*  "   band, 

moun'          "    mound, 
mor-nin'      "    morn-in^. 
des'  "   desk. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Mos'          for  mosque. 
near-es' 


wep' 

ob-jec' 

sub-jec' 


"  near-es*. 

"  wep*. 

"  ob-jec*. 

"  sub-jecf. 


REMARK  1.— This  omission  is  still  more  likely  to  occur  when  several 
consonants  come  together. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Thrus'  for  thruste. 

beace  "   beaste. 

thinks'  "   thinks*, 

weps'  " 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Harms'  for  harm's*, 
wrongs'       "    wrong's*, 
twinkles'     "   twinkl'ds*. 
black'ns      "   black'n'ds*. 


14  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

REMARK  2. —In  all  cases  of  this  kind  these  sounds  are  omitted,  in  the 
first  instance,  merely  because  they  are  difficult,  and  require  care  and 
attention  for  their  utterance,  although  after  a  while  it  becomes  a  habit. 
The  only  remedy  is  to  devote  that  care  and  attention  which  may  be  neces- 
sary. There  is  no  other  difficulty,  unless  there  should  be  a  defect  in  the 
organs  of  speech,  which  is  not  often  the  case. 


RULE  Y.  —  Avoid  blending  syllables  which  belong  to  dif- 
ferent words. 

EXAMPLES. 


He  ga-zdupon.  He  gazed  upon. 

Here  res  tsis  sed.  Here  rests  his  head. 

Whatris  sis  sname  ?  What  is  fas  name  ? 

For  rannins£antush.  For  an  instant  Aush. 

Ther  ris  sa  calm.  There  is  a  calm. 

For  tho  s^a  tweep.  For  those  that  weep. 

God  sglorou  simage.  God's  glorious  image. 

EXERCISES   IN   ARTICULATION. 

This  exercise  and  similar  ones  will  afford  valuable  aid  in  training  the 
organs  to  a  distinct  articulation. 

Every  vice  fights  against  nature. 

Folly  is  never  pleased  with  tVself . 

Pride,  not  nature,  craves  mucft. 

The  little  tattler  tittered  at  the  tempest. 

Titus  takes  the  petulant  outcasts. 

The  covetous  partner  is  destitute  of  fortune. 

No  one  of  you  knows  where  the  sAoe  pinches. 

What  can  not  be  cured  must  be  endured. 

You  can  not  catch  old  birds  with  c^aff. 

Never  sport  with  the  opinions  of  others. 

The  lightnings  flashed,  the  Sunders  roared. 

His  hand  in  mine  was  fondly  clasped. 

They  cuftivated  shrubs  and  plants. 

He  selected  his  texts  with  great  care. 

His  lips  grow  res^ess,  and  his  smile  is  curZec?  Aalf  into  scorn. 

Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  joteasan/ness. 


FIFTH    READER.  15 

O  breeze,  that  waitst  me  on  my  way! 

jTAou  boat's*  of  what  should  be  thy  sAame. 

Li/e's  fitful  fever  over,  he  rests  well. 

Cam*  /Aou  fill  his  skin  with  bar&et/  irons? 

From  star  to  star  the  living  Kghtoin<7sy?asA. 

And  glittering  crowns  of  j?ros*rate  seraphim. 

TAat  morning,  thou  that  slumber'd'st  not  before. 

Habitual  evils  chancre  not  on  a  sudden. 

Thou  waft'd'st  the  rickety  skiffs  over  the  cliffs. 

Thou  reef'cTs*  the  haggled,  shipwrecked  sails. 

The  hones*  shepherd's  catarrh. 

The  heiress  in  her  disAabi/Ze  is  humorous. 

The  &rave  chevalier  behayes  like  a  conservative. 

The  luscious  notion  of  champagne  and  precious  sngal 


III.    INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections  are  slides  of  the  voice  upward  or  downward. 
Of  these,  there  are  two :  the  rising  inflection  and  the  fatting 
inflection. 

The  Rising  Inflection  is  that  in  which  the  voice  slides 
upward,  and  is  marked  thus  (');  as, 

Did  you  walk7?    Did  you  **^ 

The  Falling  Inflection  is  that  in  which  the  voice  slides 
downward,  and  is  marked  thus  (x)j  as, 

I  did  not  walkv.     I  did  not 

Both  inflections  are  exhibited  in  the  following  question: 
Did  you  walk7  or  ride^V    **&  or 


16  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

In  the  following  examples,  the  first  member  has  the  rising  and  the 
second  member  the  falling  inflection: 


EXAMPLES.* 

Is  he  sick/,  or  is  he  wellN  ? 
Did  you  say  valor',  or  valuev? 
Did  you  say  statute',  or  statuev? 
Did  he  act  properly7,  or  improperlyv? 

In  the  following  examples,  the  inflections  are  used  in  a  contrary 
order,  the  first  member  terminating  with  the  falling  and  the  second 
with  the  rising  inflection: 

EXAMPLES. 

He  is  well\  not  sick'. 

I  said  value\  not  valor7. 

I  said  statue\  not  statute'. 

He  acted  properly^,  not  improperly'. 


FALLING  INFLECTIONS. 

RULE  VI.  —  The  falling  inflection  is  generally  proper 
wherever  the  sense  is  complete. 

EXAMPLES. 

Truth  is  more  wonderful  than  fictionV 
Men  generally  die  as  they  live\ 
By  industry  we  obtain  wealth\ 

REMARK.  —  Parti*  of  a  sentence  often  make  complete  sense  in  them- 
selves, and  in  this  case,  unless  qualified  or  restrained  by  the  succeeding 
clause,  or  unless  the  contrary  is  indicated  by  some  other  principle,  the 
falling  inflection  takes  place  according  to  the  rule. 


*  These  questions  and  similar  ones,  with  their  answers,  should  be  repeatedly 
pronounced  with  their  proper  inflections,  until  the  distinction  between  the  rising 
and  falling  inflection  is  well  understood  and  easily  made  by  the  learner.  He  will 
b«  assisted  in  this  by  emphasizing  strongly  the  word,  which  receives  the  inflection; 
thus,  Did  you  BIDE/  or  did  you  WALKS  f 


FIFTH    READER.  17 


EXAMPLES. 

Truth  is  wonderful^,  even  more  so  than  fiction*. 
Men  generally  die  as  they  live\  and  by  their,  actions  we  must 
judge  of  their  character^. 

Exception.  —  When  a  sentence  concludes  with  a  negative  clause,  or  with 
a  contrast  or  comparison  (called  also  antithesis),  the  first  member  of 
which  requires  the  falling  inflection,  it  must  close  with  the  rising  inflec- 
tion, (See  Kule  XI,  and  §  2,  Note.) 

EXAMPLES. 

No  one  desires  to  be  thought  a  fool'. 

I  come  to  buryN  Caesar,  not  to  praise'  him. 

He  lives  in  England\  not  in  France7. 

REMARK.  —  In  bearing  testimony  to  the  general  character  of  a  man 
we  say: 

He  is  too  honorable*  to  be  guilty  of  a  vile^  act. 

But  if  he  is  accused  of  some  act  of  baseness,  a  contrast  is  at  once  insti- 
tuted between  his  character  and  the  specified  act,  and  we  change  the  in- 
flections, and  say : 

He  is  too  honorable'  to  be  guilty  of  such7  an  act. 
A  man  may  say  in  general  terms: 

I  am  too  busy7  for  projects*. 

But  if  he  is  urged  to  embark  in  some  particular  enterprise,  he  will 
change  the  inflections,  and  say: 

1  am  too  btisy^  for  projects'. 

In  such  cases,  as  the  falling  inflection  is  required  in  the  former  part  by 
the  principle  of  contrast  and  emphasis  (as  will  hereafter  be  more  fully 
explained),  the  sentence  necessarily  closes  with  the  rising  inflection. 

Sometimes,  also,  emphasis  alone  seems  to  require  the  rising  inflection 
on  the  concluding  word.    See  exception  to  Rule  VII. 
(S.-2.) 


18  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


STRONG  EMPHASIS. 

RULE  VII.  —  Language  which  demands  strong  emphasis 
generally  requires  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

§  1.  Command  or  urgent  entreaty ;  as, 

Begone\ 

Runx  to  your  houses,  faliv  upon  your  knees, 

Prayv  to  the  Gods  to  intermit  the  plagues. 

O,  savev  me,  Hubert^,  savev  me  I     My  eyes  are  out 
Even  with  the  fierce  looks  of  these  bloody  men. 

§  2.  Exclamation,  especially  when  indicating  strong  emo- 
tion; as, 

O,  ye  GodsM  ye  GodsM  must  I  endure  all  this? 

Harkv !   Harkx  I  the  horrid  sound 
Hath  raised  up  his  head. 

For  interrogatory  exclamation,  see  Rule  X,  Remark. 


SERIES  OF  WORDS  OR  MEMBERS. 

§  3.  A  series  of  words  or  members,  whether  in  the  begin- 
ning or  middle  of  a  sentence,  if  it  does  not  conclude  the 
sentence,  is  called  a  commencing  series,  and  usually  requires 
the  rising  inflection  when  not  emphatic. 

EXAMPLES  OF   COMMENCING   SERIES. 

Wine',  beauty',  music7,  pomp',  are  poor  expedients  to  heave 
off  the  load  of  an  hour  from  the  heir  of  eternity\ 


FIFTH   READER.  19 

I  conjure  you  by  that  which  you  profess, 

(Howe'er  you  came  to  know  it,)  answer  me; 

Though  you  untie  the  winds  and  let  them  fight 

Against  the  churches7;  though  the  yeasty  waves 

Confound  and  swallow  navigation'  up; 

Though  bladed  corn  be  lodged,  and  trees  blown  down'} 

Though  castles  topple  on  their  warders'  heads/; 

Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 

Their  heads  to  their  foundations7 ;  though  the  treasures 

Of  nature's  germens  tumble  altogether7, 

Even  till  destruction  sicken7 ;  answer  me 

To  what  I  askx  you. 

§  4.  A  series  of  words  or  members  which  concludes  a 
sentence  is  called  a  concluding  series,  and  each  member  usu- 
ally has  the  falling  inflection. 


EXAMPLE    OF    CONCLUDING   SERIES. 

They,  through  faith,  subdued  kingdoms\  wrought  righteous- 
\  obtained  promises\  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions\  quenched 
the  violence  of  fire\  escaped  the  edge  of  the  swordx,  out  of 
weakness  were  made  strong\  waxed  valiant  in  fight\  turned  to 
flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens^. 

REMARK. — When  the  emphasis  on  these  words  or  mem- 
bers is  not  marked,  they  take  the  rising  inflection,  accord-, 
ing  to  Kule  IX. 

EXAMPLES. 

They  are  the  offspring  of  restlessness7,  vanity7,  and  idleness^. 
Love7,  hope7,  and  joy7  took  possession  of  his  breast. 

§  5.  When  words  which  naturally  take  the  rising  inflec- 
tion become  emphatic  by  repetition  or  any  other  cause,  they 
often  take  the  falling  inflection. 


20  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Exception  to  the  Rule.— While  the  tendency  of  emphasis  is  decidedly 
to  the  use  of  the  falling  inflection,  sometimes  a  word  to  which  the  falling 
inflection  naturally  belongs  changes  this,  when  it  is  emphatic,  for  the 
rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

Three  thousand  ducatsx :  't  is  a  good  round  sum7. 
It  is  useless  to  point  out  the  beauties  of  nature  to  one  who 
is  Mind'. 

Here  sum  and  blind,  according  to  Rule  VI,  would  take  the  falling  inflec- 
tion, hut  as  they  are  emphatic,  and  the  object  of  emphasis  is  to  draw 
attention  to  the  word  emphasized,  this  is  here  accomplished  in  part  by 
giving  an  unusual  inflection.  Some  speakers  would  give  these  words  the 
circumflex,  but  it  would  be  the  rising  circumflex,  so  that  the  sound 
would  still  terminate  with  the  rising  inflection. 

RULE  VIII. — Questions  which  can  not  be  answered  by 
yes  or  no,  together  with  their  answers,  generally  require  the 
falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

Where  has  he  gonev?  Ans.  To  New  York\ 

What  has  he  donev?  Ans.  Nothingv. 

Who  did  this^?  Ans.  I  know  not\ 

When  did  he  gox?  Ans.  Yesterday^ 

REMARK.  — If  these  questions  are  repeated,  the  inflection  is  changed 
according  to  the  principle  stated  under  the  Exception  to  Rule  VII. 

Where  did  you  say  he  had  gone'? 
What  has  he  done'? 
Who  did  this'? 
When  did  he  go'? 


RISING  INFLECTION. 

BULE  IX.  —  Where  a  pause  is  rendered  proper  by  the 
meaning,  and  the  sense  is  incomplete,  the  rising  inflection. 
is  generally  required. 


FIFTH  READER.  21 


EXAMPLES. 

To  endure  slander  and  abuse  with  meekness7  requires  no  or- 
dinary degree  of  self-command\ 

Night  coming  on',  both  armies  retired  from  the  field  of 
battle\ 

As  a  dog  returaeth  to  his  vomit7,  so  a  fool  returneth  to  his 
folly\ 

REMARK.— The  person  or  object  addressed,  in  ordinary  conversation, 
under  this  head. 


EXAMPLES. 

Fathers7!  we  once  again  are  met  in  council. 
My  lords7!    and  gentlemen7!   we  have  arrived  at  an  awful 
crisis. 

Age7!  thou  art  shamed. 

Rome7!  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods! 

Exception.  —Where  a  word  which,  according  to  this  rule,  requires  the 
rising  inflection,  becomes  emphatic,  it  generally  has  the  falling  inflec- 
tion ;  as,  when  a  child  addresses  his  father,  he  first  says,  Father' !  but  if 
he  repeats  it  emphatically,  he  changes  the  inflection,  and  says,  Father  I 
Father1^ !  The  falling  inflection  is  also  used  in  formal  address ;  as,  Fellow- 
citizensx,  Mr,  President,  etc. 

EXAMPLES. 

When  we  aim  at  a  high  standard,  if  we  do  not  attaint  it,  we 
shall  secure  a  high  degree  of  excellence. 

Those  who  mingle  with  the  vicious,  if  they  do  not  become  de- 
praved^, will  lose  all  delicacy  of  feeling. 

EULE  X.  —  Questions  which  may  be  answered  by  yes  or 
?io,  generally  require  the  rising,  and  their  answers  the 
falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

Has  he  arrived7?    Yes\ 

Will  he  return7?    No\ 

Does  the  law  condemn  him7?    It  does  not\ 


22  ECLECTIC  SERIES. 

Exception.  —  If  these  questions  are  repeated  emphatically,  they  take  the 
falling  inflection,  according  to  Rule  VII. 


EXAMPLES. 

Has  he  arrivedv? 
Will  he  return^? 
Does  the  law  condemn  himv? 


REMARK.  — When  a  word  or  sentence  is  repeated  as  a  kind  of  interroga- 
tory exclamation,  the  rising  inflection  is  used  according  to  the  princi- 
ples of  this  rule. 

EXAMPLES. 

You  ask,  who  would  venture^  in  such  a  cause !  Who  would 
venture'?  Rather  say,  who  would  notx  venture  all  things  for 
such  an  object! 

He  is  called  the  friendv  of  virtue.  The  friend' !  ay !  the  en- 
thusiastic lover\  the  devoted  protector\  rather. 

So,  also,  when  one  receives  unexpected  information  he  exclaims,  Ah'  I 
indeed'! 

REMARK.  —  In  the  above  examples  the  words  "venture,"  "friend," 
"ah,"  etc.,  may  be  considered  as  interrogatory  exclamations,  because  if 
the  sense  were  carried  out  it  would  be  in  the  form  of  question ;  as,  "  Do 
you  ask  who  would  venture'?"  "Do  you  say  that  he  is  the  friend'  of 
virtue?"  "Is  it  possible7?"  and  thus  they  would  receive  the  rising  in- 
flection according  to  this  rule. 


RISING  AND  FALLING  INFLECTIONS. 

RULE  XI.  —  The  different  members  of  a  sentence  express- 
ing comparison,  or  contrast,  or  negation  and  affirmation,  or 
where  the  parts  are  united  by  or  used  disjunctively,  require 
different  inflections;  generally  the  rising  inflection  in  the 
first  member,  and  the  falling  inflection  in  the  second  mem- 
ber. This  order  is,  however,  sometimes  inverted. 

§  1.   Comparison  and  contrast.    This  is  also  called  antithesis. 


JflFTH  READER. 


EXAMPLES. 

In  all  things  approving  ourselves  as  the  ministers  of  God;  by 
honor7,  and  dishonor^ ;  by  evil7  report,  and  goodx  report ;  as  de- 
ceivers7, and  yet  truex;  as  unknown7,  and  yet  wellN  known;  as 
dying7,  and  behold  we  livex;  as  chastened7,  and  not  killedv;  as 
sorrowful7,  yet  always  rejoicingx ;  as  poor7,  yet  making  many 
richx ;  as  having  nothing7,  yet  possessing  allx  things. 

Europe  was  one  great  battlefield,  where  the  weak  struggled 
for  freedom7,  and  the  strong  for  dominion^  The  king  was 
without  power7,  and  the  nobles  without  principled  They  were 
tyrants  at  home7,  and  robbers  abroadv. 

§  2.  Negation  and  affirmation. 


EXAMPLES. 

He  desired  not  to  injure7  his  friend,  but  to  protect^  him. 
We  desire  not  your  money7,  but  yourselves^. 
I  did  not  say  a  better7  soldier,  but  an  elderv. 

If  the  affirmative  clause  comes  first,  the  order  of  the  inflections  is 
inverted. 

EXAMPLES. 

He  desired  to  protect^  his  friend,  not  to  injure7  him. 
We  desire  yourselves^  not  your  money7. 
I  said  an  elderx  soldier,  not  a  better7. 

The  affirmative  clause  is  sometimes  understood. 

We  desire  not  your  money7. 

I  di£  not  say  a  better7  soldier. 

The  region  beyond  the  grave  is  not  a  solitary7  land. 

In  most  negative  sentences  standing  alone,  the  corresponding  affirma- 
tive is  understood ;  hence  the  following 

REMARK.  —  Negative  sentences,  whether  alone  or  connected  with  an 
affirmative  clause,  generally  end  with  the  rising  inflection. 


£  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

If  such  sentences  are  repeated  emphatically,  they  take  the  falling  in- 
flection according  to  Rule  VI. : 


EXAMPLES. 

We  do  noP  desire  your  money. 
I  did  nofx  say  a  better  soldier. 

f  3.   Or  used  disjunctively. 

Did  he  behave  properly7,  or  improperly v  ? 
Are  they  living7,  or  deadv? 
Is  he  rich7,  or  poorv? 

Does  (rod,  having  made  his  creatures,  take  no  further7  care 
of  them,  or  does  he  preserve  and  guide  themv  ? 

REMARK.  — Where  or  is  used  conjunctively,  this  rule  does  not  apply ;  as, 
Will  the  law  of  kindness7  or  of  justice7  justify  such  conduct7  ? 

CIRCUMFLEX. 

The  circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  rising  and  falling  in- 
flections. Properly  speaking,  there  are  two  of  these,  the 
one  called  the  rising  circumflex,  in  which  the  voice  slides 
down  and  then  up;  and  the  other,  the  falling  circumflex, 
in  which  the  voice  slides  upward  and  then  downward  on 
the  same  vowel.  They  may  both  be  denoted  by  the  same 
mark,  thus,  (-*•).  The  circumflex  is  used  chiefly  to  indi- 
cate the  emphasis  of  irony,  of  contrast,  or  of  hypothesis. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Queen.    Hamlet,  you  have  your  father  much  offended. 
Hamlet.  Madam,  y6u  have  my  father  much  offended. 

2.  They  offer  us  their  protection.    Yes\  such  protection  as 
vtiltures  give  to  lambs,  cdvering  and  devouring  them. 


FIFTH    READER.  25 

3.  I  knew  when  seven  justices  could  not  make  up  a  quarrel? 
but  when  the  parties  met  themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but 
of  an  if;  as,  If  you  said  s6,  then  I  said  so ;  O  ho !  did  you  say 
so?  So  they  shook  hands  and  were  sworn  brothers. 

REMARKS.  —  In  the  first  example,  the  emphasis  is  that  of  contrast.  The 
queen  had  poisoned  her  husband,  of  which  she  incorrectly  supposed  her 
son  ignorant,  and  she  blames  him  for  treating  his  father-in-law  with  dis- 
respect. In  his  reply,  Hamlet  contrasts  her  deep  crime  with  his  own 
slight  offense,  and  the  circumflex  upon  "  you  "  becomes  proper. 

In  the  second  example  the  emphasis  is  ironical.  The  Spaniards  pre- 
tended that  they  would  protect  the  Peruvians  if  they  would  submit  to 
them,  whereas  it  was  evident  that  they  merely  desired  to  plunder  and 
destroy  them.  Thus  their  protection  is  ironically  called  "  such  protection 
as  vultures  give  to  lambs,"  etc. 

In  the  third  example,  the  word  "  so  "  is  used  hypothetical^ ;  that  is,  it 
implies  a  condition  or  supposition.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  rising 
circumflex  is  used  in  the  first  "  so,"  and  the  falling,  in  the  second,  be- 
cause the  first  "  so  "  must  end  with  the  rising  inflection  and  the  second 
with  the  falling  inflection,  according  to  previous  rules. 


MONOTONE. 

When  no  word  in  a  sentence  receives  an  inflection,  it 
is  said  to  be  read  in  a  monotone;  that  is,  in  nearly  the 
same  tone  throughout.  This  uniformity  of  tone  is  occa- 
sionally adopted,  and  is  fitted  to  express  solemnity  or 
sublimity  of  idea,  and  sometimes  intensity  of  feeling.  It 
is  used,  also,  when  the  whole  sentence  or  phrase  is  em- 
phatic. In  books  of  elocution,  when  it  is  marked  at  all, 
it  is  generally  marked  thus  ( — ),  as  in  the  lines  follow- 
ing. 

EXAMPLES. 

Hence  !  loathed  melancholy ! 

Where  brooding  darkness  spreads  her  jealous  wings, 

And  the  night  raven  sings; 

There,  under  ebon  shades  and  low-browed  rocks, 

As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  deep  Cimmerian  darkness  ever  dwelL" 


26  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


IV,    ACCENT. 

In  every  word  which  contains  more  than  one  syllable, 
one  of  the  syllables  is  pronounced  with  a  somewhat 
greater  stress  of  voice  than  the  others.  This  syllable  is 
said  to  be  accented.  The  accented  syllable  is  distinguished 
by  this  mark  Q,  the  same  which  is  used  in  inflections. 

EXAMPLES. 

Love'ly,  re-turn',  re-mem'ber, 

Con'stant,  re-main',  a-sun'der, 

Mem'ber,  a-bide',  a-ban'don, 

Win'dow,  a-tone',  rec-ol-lect', 

Ban'ner,  a-lone',  re-em-bark'. 

REMARK.  —  In  most  cases  custom  is  the  only  guide  for  placing  the  accent 
on  one  syllable  rather  than  another.  Sometimes,  however,  the  same 
word  is  differently  accented  in  order  to  mark  its  different  meanings. 

EXAMPLES. 

Con'jure,  to  practice  enchantments.       Con-jure',  to  entreat. 
Gal'lant,  brave.  Gal-lanf,  a  gay  fellow. 

Auf  gust,  a  month.  Au-gust',  grand. 

REMARK.  —  A  number  of  words  used  sometimes  as  one  part  of  speech, 
and  sometimes  as  another,  vary  their  accents  irregularly. 

EXAMPLES. 

Pres'ent.  the  noun.        I  ^  , 

,.     ,.          Pre-sent',  the  verb. 
Pres'ent,  the  adjective.  | 

,,  I  Corn-pact',  the  adjective. 

CWpact,  the  noun.         _,      *      / 

|  Corn-pact,  the  verb. 

In  words  of  more  than  two  syllables  there  is  often  a  second  accent 
given,  but  more  slight  than  the  principal  one,  and  this  is  called  the  sec- 
ondary accent ;  as,  car'a-vari",  rep//ar-<ee/,  where  the  principal  accent  is 
marked  (f)  and  the  secondary  (") ;  so,  also,  tnis  accent  is  obvious  in  nav//- 
i-grc'tion,  com//pre-/iett/sion,  p/<m//si-6z//i-£y,  etc.  The  whole  subject, 
however,  properly  belongs  to  dictionaries  and  spelling  books. 


FIFTH   READER.  27 


V.   EMPHASIS. 

A  word  is  said  to  be  emphasized  when  it  is  uttered  with 
a  greater  stress  of  voice  than  the  other  words  with  which  it 
is  connected. 

REMARK  1.— The  object  of  emphasis  is  to  attract  particular  attention 
to  the  word  upon  which  it  is  placed,  indicating  that  the  idea  to  be  con- 
veyed depends  very  much  upon  that  word.  This  object,  as  just  stated,  is 
generally  accomplished  by  increasing  the  force  of  utterance,  but  some- 
times, also,  by  a  change  in  the  inflection,  by  the  use  of  the  monotone,  by 
pause,  or  by  uttering  the  words  in  a  very  low  key.  Emphatic  words  are 
often  denoted  by  italics,  and  a  still  stronger  emphasis  by  SMALL  CAPITALS 
or  CAPITALS,  according  to  the  degree  of  emphasis  desired. 

REMARK  2.— Emphasis  constitutes  the  most  important  feature  in  read- 
ing and  speaking,  and,  properly  applied,  gives  life  and  character  to  lan- 
guage. Accent,  inflection,  and  indeed  everything  yields  to  emphasis. 

REMARK  3. — In  the  following  examples  it  will  be  seen  that  accent  is 
governed  by  it. 

EXAMPLES. 

What  is  done  cannot  be  undone. 

There  is  a  difference  between  giving  and  forgiving. 

He  that  descended  is  the  same  that  ascended. 

Some  appear  to  make  very  little  difference  between  decency 
and  indecency,  morality  and  immorality,  religion  and  {/religion. 

REMARK  4.  —  There  is  no  better  illustration  of  the  nature  and  impor- 
tance of  emphasis  than  the  following  examples.  It  will  be  observed  that 
the  meaning  and  proper  answer  of  the  question  vary  with  each  change  of 
the  emphasis. 

EXAMPLES. 

QTTE8TION8.  ANSWER}. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?    No,  my  brother  went. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?    No,  I  rode. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?    No,  I  went  into  the 

country. 
Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?    No,  I  went  the   day 

before. 


28  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


ABSOLUTE   EMPHASIS. 

Sometimes  a  word  is  emphasized  simply  to  indicate  the 
importance  of  the  idea.  This  is  called  absolute  emphasis. 

EXAMPLES. 

To  arms  !  they  come  !  the  Greek  !  the  Greek  I 
Woe  unto  you,  PHARISEES!  HYPOCRITES! 
Days,  months,  years,  and  ages  shall  circle  away. 

REMARK. — In  instances  like  the  last,  it  is  sometimes  called  the  emphasis 
of  specification. 

RELATIVE  EMPHASIS. 

Words  are  often  emphasized  in  order  to  exhibit  the  idea 
they  express  as  compared  or  contrasted  with  some  other 
idea.  This  is  called  relative  emphasis. 

EXAMPLES. 

A  friend  can  not  be  known  in  prosperity;  an  enemy  can  not  be 
hidden  in  adversity. 

It  is  much  better  to  be  injured  than  to  injure. 

REMARK.  —  In  many  instances  one  part  only  of  the  antithesis  is  ex- 
pressed, the  corresponding  idea  being  understood ;  as, 

A  friendly  eye  would  never  see  such  faults. 
Here  the  unfriendly  eye  is  understood. 

King  Henry  exclaims,  while  vainly  endeavoring  to  compose 
himself  to  rest, 

"How  many  thousand  of  my  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep!" 

Here  the  emphatic  words  thousand,  subjects,  and  asleep  are 
contrasted  in  idea  with  their  opposites,  and  if  the  contrasted 
ideas  were  expressed  it  might  be  in  this  way: 

While  I  alone,  their  sovereign,  am  doomed  to  wakefulness. 


FIFTH   READER.  29 


EMPHATIC   PHRASE. 

Sometimes  several  words  in  succession  are  emphasized, 
forming  what  is  called  an  emphatic  phrase. 


EXAMPLES. 

Shall  I,  the  conqueror  of  Spain  and  Gaul,  and  not  only  of  the 
Alpine  nations  but  of  the  Alps  themselves  —  shall  I  compare  my- 
self With  this  HALF YEAR CAPTAIN  ? 

Shall  we  try  argument  ?    Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that  for  the 

LAST   TEN  YEARS. 

And  if  thou  said'st  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here, 
Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near, 
Lord  Angus  — THOU  —  HAST  —  LIED  I 


EMPHATIC  PAUSE. 

The  emphatic  expression  of  a  sentence  often  requires  a 
pause  where  the  grammatical  construction  authorizes  none. 
This  is  sometimes  called  the  rhetorical  pause.  Such  pauses 
occur  chiefly  before  or  after  an  emphatic  word  or  phrase, 
and  sometimes  both  before  and  after  it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Rise  —  fellow-men!  our  country — yet  remains! 
By  that  dread  name  we  wave  the  sword  on  high, 
And  swear  for  hei — to  live — with  her — to  die. 

But  most  —  by  numbers  judge  the  poet's  song: 

And  smooth  or  rough,  with  them  is  — right  or  wrong. 

He  said;  then  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo! — 'twas  white. 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


VI.    MODULATION. 

Modulation  includes  the  variations  of  the  voice.  These 
may  be  classed  under  the  heads  of  Pitch,  Compass,  Quan- 
tity, and  Quality. 

PITCH  AND  COMPASS. 

If  anyone  will  notice  closely  a  sentence  as  uttered  in  private 
conversation,  he  will  observe  that  very  few  successive  -words  are 
pronounced  in  exactly  the  same  key  or  with  the  same  force.  At 
the  same  time,  however,  there  is  a  certain  PITCH  or  key,  which 
seems,  on  the  whole,  to  prevail. 

This  keynote,  or  governing  note,  as  it  may  be  called,  is  that  upon 
which  the  voice  most  frequently  dwells,  to  which  it  usually  returns 
when  wearied,  and  upon  which  a  sentence  generally  commences, 
and  very  frequently  ends,  while,  at  the  same  time,  there  is  a  con- 
siderable play  of  the  voice  above  and  below  it. 

This  key  may  be  high  or  low.  It  varies  in  different  individuals, 
and  at  different  times  in  the  same  individual,  being  governed  by 
the  nature  of  the  subject  and  the  emotions  of  the  speaker.  It  is 
worthy  of  notice,  however,  that  most  speakers  pitch  their  voices 
on  a  key  too  high. 

The  range  of  the  voice  above  and  below  this  note  is  called  its 
COMPASS.  When  the  speaker  is  animated,  this  range  is  great; 
but  upon  abstract  subjects,  or  with  a  dull  speaker,  it  is  small.  If, 
in  reading  or  speaking,  too  high  a  note  be  chosen,  the  lungs  will 
soon  become  wearied;  if  too  low  a  pitch  be  selected,  there  is 
danger  of  indistinctness  of  utterance ;  and  in  either  case  there  is 
less  room  for  compass  or  variety  of  tone  than  if  one  be  taken 
between  the  two  extremes. 

To  secure  the  proper  pitch  and  the  greatest  compass  observe 
the  following  rule : 

KULE  XII.  —  The  reader  or  speaker  should  choose  that 
pitch  in  which  he  can  feel  himself  most  at  ease,  and  above 
and  below  which  he  may  have  most  room  for  variation. 

REMARK  1.  —  Having  chosen  the  proper  keynote,  he  should  beware  of 
confining  himself  to  it.  This  constitutes  monotony,  one  of  the  greatest 


FIFTH   READER.  31 

faults  in  elocution.  One  very  important  instrument  for  giving  expres- 
sion and  life  to  thought  is  thus  lost,  and  the  hearer  soon  becomes  wearied 
and  disgusted. 

REMARK  2.  —There  is  another  fault  of  nearly  equal  magnitude,  and  ol 
very  frequent  occurrence.  This  consists  in  varying  the  pitch  and  force 
without  reference  to  the  sense.  A  sentence  is  commenced  with  vehemence 
and  in  a  high  key,  and  the  voice  gradually  sinks  until,  the  breath  being 
spent,  it  dies  away  in  a  whisper. 

NOTE.— The  power  of  changing  the  key  at  will  is  difficult  to  acquire, 
but  of  great  importance. 

REMARK  3.  —The  habit  of  singsong,  so  common  in  reading  poetry,  as  it 
is  a  variation  of  pitch  without  reference  to  the  sense,  is  a  species  of  the 
fault  above  mentioned. 

REMARK  4.  —  If  the  reader  or  speaker  is  guided  by  the  sense,  and  if  he 
gives  that  emphasis,  inflection,  and  expression  required  by  the  meaning, 
these  faults  speedily  disappear. 

REMARK  5.  —  To  improve  the  voice  in  these  respects,  practice  is  neces- 
sary. Commence,  for  example,  with  the  lowest  pitch  the  voice  can  com- 
fortably sound,  and  repeat  whole  paragraphs  and  pages  upon  that  key 
with  gentle  force.  Then  repeat  the  paragraph  with  increased  force,  tak- 
ing care  not  to  raise  the  pitch.  Then  rise  one  note  higher,  and  practice 
on  that,  then  another,  and  so  on,  until  the  highest  pitch  of  the  voice  is 
reached.  Reverse  the  process,  and  repeat  as  before  until  the  lowest  pitch 
is  obtained. 

NOTE.  —In  these  and  all  similar  exercises,  be  very  careful  not  to  con- 
found pitch  and  force. 


QUANTITY  AND  QUALITY. 

The  tones  of  the  voice  should  vary  also  in  quantity,  or 
time  required  to  utter  a  sound  or  a  syllable,  and  in  quality, 
or  expression,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  subject, 

REMARK. — We  notice  a  difference  between  the  soft,  insinuating  tones 
of  persuasion ;  the  full,  strong  voice  of  command  and  decision ;  the 
harsh,  irregular,  and  sometimes  grating  explosion  of  the  sounds  of 
passion;  the  plaintive  notes  of  sorrow  and  pity:  and  the  equable  and 
unimpassioned  flow  of  words  in  argumentative  style. 

The  following  direction,  therefore,  is  worthy  of  attention : 

The  tones  of  the  voice  should  always  correspond  both  in 
quantity  and  quality  with  the  nature  of  the  subject. 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


Passion 

and 
Grief. 


Plaintive. 


Calm. 


Fierce 
Anger. 


Loud 

and 

Explosive. 


EXAMPLES. 

"  Come  back !  come  back ! "  he  cried,  in  grief, 

"Across  this  stormy  water, 
And  I'll  forgive  your  Highland  chief, 

My  daughter!  O,  my  daughter!" 

I  have  lived  long  enough:  my  way  of  life 
Is  fallen  into  the  sear,  the  yellow  leaf: 
And  that  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends, 
I  must  not  look  to  have. 

f  A  very  great  portion  of  this  globe  is  covered 
j  with  water,  which  is  called  sea,  and  is  very  dis- 
tinct from  rivers  and  lakes. 

Burned  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fire, 
And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire, 

And  — "This  to  me?"  he  said; 
"And  'twere  not  for  thy  hoary  beard, 
Such  hand  as  Marmion's  had  not  spared 

To  cleave  the  Douglas'  head! 

"Even  in  thy  pitch  of  pride, 
Here,  in  thy  hold,  thy  vassals  near, 

I  tell  thee  thou'rt  defied! 
And  if  thou  said'st  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here, 
Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near, 

Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied!" 


REMARK  1.  —  In  our  attempt  to  imitate  nature  it  is  important  to  avoid 
affectation,  for  to  this  fault  even  perfect  monotony  is  preferable. 

REMARK  2. —  The  strength  of  the  voice  may  be  increased  by  practicing 
with  different  degrees  of  loudness,  from  a  whisper  to  full  rotundity,  tak- 
ing care  to  keep  the  voice  on  the  same  key.  The  same  note  in  music  may 
be  sounded  loud  or  soft.  So  also  a  sentence  may  be  pronounced  on  the 
same  pitch  with  different  degrees  of  loudness.  Having  practiced  with 
different  degrees  of  loudness  on  one  key,  make  the  same  experiment  on 
another,  and  then  on  another,  and  so  on.  This  will  also  give  the  learner 
practice  in  compass. 


FIFTH    READER.  33 


VII.    POETIC   PAUSES.  - 

In  poetry  we  have,  in  addition  to  other  pauses,  poetic 
pauses.  The  object  of  these  is  simply  to  promote  the 
melody. 

At  the  end  of  each  line  a  slight  pause  is  proper,  what- 
ever be  the  grammatical  construction  or  the  sense.  The 
purpose  of  this  pause  is  to  make  prominent  the  melody  of 
the  measure,  and  in  rhyme  to  allow  the  ear  to  appreciate 
the  harmony  of  the  similar  sounds. 

There  is,  also,  another  important  pause,  somewhere  near 
the  middle  of  each  line,  which  is  called  the  ccesura  or 
ral  pause.    In  the  following  lines  it  is  marked  thus  (||)  : 


EXAMPLES. 

There  are  hours  long  departed  |j  which  memory  brings, 
Like  blossoms  of  Eden  ||  to  twine  round  the  heart, 

And  as  time  rushes  by  ||  on  the  might  of  his  wings, 
They  may  darken  awhile  ||  but  they  never  depart. 

REMARK.  — The  caesural  pause  should  never  be  so  placed  as  to  injure 
the  sense.  The  following  lines,  if  melody  alone  were  consulted,  would 
be  read  thus: 

With  fruitless  la  ||  bor  Clara  bound, 
And  strove  to  stanch  ||  the  gushing  wound; 
The  Monk  with  un  ||  availing  cares, 
Exhausted  all  ||  the  church's  prayers. 

This  manner  of  reading,  however,  would  very  much  interfere  with  the 
proper  expression  of  the  idea.  This  is  to  be  corrected  by  making  the 
caesural  pause  yield  to  the  sense.  The  above  lines  should  be  read  thus: 

With  fruitless  labor  ||  Clara  bound, 
And  strove  ||  to  stanch  the  gushing  wound ; 
The  Monk  ||  with  unavailing  cares, 
Exhausted  ||  all  the  church's  prayers. 
(5.-S.) 


34  ECLECTIC    SEBIES. 

EXERCISES. 

L  DEATH  OF  FRANKLIN. 

(To  be  read  in  a  solemn  tone.) 

Franklin  is  dead.  The  genius  who  freed  America',  and 
poured  a  copious  stream  of  knowledge  throughout  Europe',  is 
returned  unto  the  bosom  of  the  Divinity^.  The  sage  to  whom 
two  worlds'  lay  claim,  the  man  for  whom  science'  and  politics^ 
are  disputing,  indisputably  enjoyed  an  elevated  rank  in  human 
nature. 

The  cabinets  of  princes  have  been  long  in  the  habit  of  noti- 
fying the  death  of  those  who  were  great',  only  in  their  funeral 
orations^.  Long  hath  the  etiquette  of  courts',  proclaimed  the 
mourning  of  hypocrisy^.  Nations'  should  wear  mourning  for 
none  but  their  benefactors^.  The  representatives'  of  nations 
should  recommend  to  public  homage/  only  those  who  have  been 
the  heroes  of  humanity^. 

H.  BONAPARTE. 

He  knew  no  motive'  but  interest^;  acknowledged  no  criterion' 
but  success"" ;  he  worshiped  no  God'  but  ambition^ ;  and  with  an 
eastern  devotion ',  he  knelt  at  the  shrine  of  his  idolatry^.  Sub- 
sidiary to  this,  there  was  no  creed'  that  he  did  not  profess^, 
there  was  no  opinion'  that  he  did  not  promulgate^:  in  the  hope  of 
a  dynasty',  he  upheld  the  crescent ;  for  the  sake  of  a  divorce',  he 
bowed  before  the  crossv;  the  orphan  of  St.  Louis',  he  became  the 
adopted  child  of  the  republic^;  and,  with  a  parricidal  ingrati- 
tude7, on  the  ruins  both  of  the  throne  and  the  tribune,  he  reared 
the  throne  of  his  despotism^. 

At  his  touch  crowns'  crumbled^ ;  beggars'  reigned^  ;  systems'  van- 
ished^ ;  the  wildest  theories'  took  the  color  of  his  whim> ;  and  all 
that  was  venerable^,  and  all  that  was  novel',  changed  places  with 
the  rapidity  of  a  drama>.  Nature  had  no  obstacle'  that  he  did 
not  surmount^;  space,  no  opposition'  he  did  not  spurri^ ;  and 
whether  amid  Alpine  rocks^,  —  Arabian  sands^, — or  Polar  snows', — 
he  seemed  proofs  against  peril',  and  empowered  with 


FIFTH   READER.  35 


HI.    HAMLET  ON  SEEING  THE  SKULL  OF  YORICK. 

Alas,  poor  Yorickv !  I  knew  him\  Horatio7 ;  a  fellow  of  in- 
finite jest/,  of  most  excellent  fancy\  He  hath  borne  me  on  his 
back7  a  thousand  timesv;  and  now',  how  abhorred  my  imagi- 
nation isv !  My  gorge  risess  at  it.  Here  hung  those  lips  that  I 
have  kissed7, 1  know  not  how  oftv.  Where  be  your  gibesv  now  f 
your  gambols^?  your  songs^f  your  flashes  of  merriment,  that 
were  wont  to  set  the  table  on  a  roarv  ?  Not  one',  now,  to  mock 
your  own  grinning7?  quite  chopj "alien' ?  Now  get  you  to  my 
lady's  chamber^,  and  tell  her7,  let  her  paint  an  inch  thic?c\  to 
this  favor7  she  must  comex;  make  her  laugh  at  that\ 


IV.   DESCRIPTION  OF  A  BATTLE. 

Tet  still  Lord  Marmion's  falcon  flew7 
With  wavering  flightv,  while  farcer  grew 

Around,  the  battle  yell. 
The  border  slogan  rent  the  skyx, 
A  Home"" !  a  Gordon^ '  was  the  cryx ; 

Loud'  were  the  clanging  blowsv; 
Advanced7,  —  forced  back\ —  now  low7, —  now  high*, 

The  pennon  sunk7  —  and  rosex; 
As  bends  the  bark's  mast  in  the  gale7, 
When  rent  are  riggingv,  shroudsv,  and  sail7, 

It  wavered  'mid  the  foesv. 
The  war,  that  for  a  space  did  fail7, 
Now  trebly  thundering  swelled  the  gale\ 

And  Stanley^ !  was  the  cry ; 
A  light  on  Marmion's  visage  spread7, 

And  fired  his  glazing  eyex :  — 
With  dying  hand7,  above  his  head7, 
He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade7, 

And  shouted7,  —  "  Victory^  / 
Charge^,  Chester7,  charge^!     0n\  Stanley', 

Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion. 


36  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


V.    LORD  ULLIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

For  the  Inflections  and  emphasis  in  this  selection,  let  the  pupil  bt 
guided  by  his  own  judgment. 

A  chieftain  to  the  Highlands  bound, 

Cries,  "Boatman,  do  not  tarry  1 
And  I'll  give  thee  a  silver  pound, 

To  row  us  o'er  the  ferry." 

"Now,  who  be  ye  would  cross  Loch-Gyle 

This  dark  and  stormy  water?" 
"Oh!   I'm  the  chief  of  Ulva's  isle, 

And  this,  Lord  Ullin's  daughter. 

"And  fast  before  her  father's  men 
Three  days  we've  fled  together, 
For  should  he  find  us  in  the  glen, 
My  blood  would  stain  the  heather. 

"His  horsemen  hard  behind  us  ride; 

Should  they  our  steps  discover, 
Then  who  will  cheer  my  bonny  bride, 
When  they  have  slain  her  lover?" 

Out  spoke  the  hardy  Highland  wight 

"I'll  go,  my  chief  —  I'm  ready: 
It  is  not  for  your  silver  bright, 

But  for  your  winsome  lady : 

"And,  by  my  word!  the  bonny  bird 

In  danger  shall  not  tarry; 
So,  though  the  waves  are  raging  white, 
I'll  row  you  o'er  the  ferry." 

By  this,  the  storm  grew  loud  apace, 

The  water  wraith  was  shrieking; 
And,  in  the  scowl  of  heaven,  each  face 

Grew  dark  as  they  were  speaking. 


FIFTH    READER.  37 

But  still,  as  -wilder  grew  the  wind, 

And  as  the  night  grew  drearer, 
Adown  the  glen  rode  armed  men, 

Their  trampling  sounded  nearer. 

"Oh!  haste  thee,  haste!"  the  lady  cries, 

"Though  tempest  round  us  gather, 
I'll  meet  the  raging  of  the  skies, 
But  not  an  angry  father." 

The  boat  has  left  the  stormy  land, 

A  stormy  sea  before  her; 
When,  oh!  too  strong  for  human  hand, 

The  tempest  gathered  o'er  her. 

And  still  they  rowed,  amid  the  roar 

Of  waters  fast  prevailing; 
Lord  Ullin  reached  that  fatal  shore, 

His  wrath  was  changed  to  wailing. 

For  sore  dismay  through  storm  and  shade 

His  child  he  did  discover; 
One  lovely  hand  she  stretched  for  aid, 

And  one  was  round  her  lover. 

"Come  back!   come  back!"  he  cried,  in  grief, 

"  Across  this  stormy  water ; 
And  I'll  forgive  your  Highland  chief, 
My  daughter  I   O,  my  daughter!" 

'T  was  vain :  the  loud  waves  lashed  the  shore, 

Return  or  aid  preventing: 
The  waters  wild  went  o'er  his  child, 

And  he  was  left  lamenting. 

—  Thomas  Campbell 


ALPHABETICAL   LIST   OF   AUTHOKS. 


NAME. 
1.  ALCOTT,  LOUISA  M.    . 
2.  ALLEN,  MBS.  E.  A.   . 
3.  ALLINOHAM,  W. 
4.  ARNOLD,  GEORGE 

PAGE 
.    110 

.    286 
.      62 
.    848 

NAME. 

45.  LAMB,  CHARLES 
46.  LONDON  TIMES    . 
47.  LONGFELLOW       .       .101, 
48.  LOWELL        .... 

PAGB 
.    333 
.     156 
154,  276 
.     228 

5.  ARTHUR,  T.  S.    . 

6     AUDUBON       .... 

.      44 
315 

49.  MARTINEAU,  HARRIET 

.    302 
292 

7.  BANCROFT    .... 

.    241 

189 

8.  BIBLE,  THE 
9.  BLACK,  WILLIAM 
10    BRIGGS,  C    F 

72,  167 
.    338 
.    263 

52.  MOORE          .... 
53.  MORRIS,  G.  P.     . 
54   NOBLE   L   L 

.    295 
.    851 

177 

11.  BROOKS,  C.  T.     . 
12.  BRYANT        .... 
13   BUCKINGHAM   J   T 

.    342 
117,  135 
.    138 

55.  NORTON,  MRS.  C.  E.  S.      . 
56.  O'BRIEN,  FITZ-JAMES 
57   PIATT   J    J 

.    269 
.    826 
246 

14.  BURRITT,  ELIHU 
15.  CAMPBELL,  THOMAS    . 
16.  CHANNING,  WILLIAM  ELLER 
17.  COLLINS,  WILLIAM      . 
18.  COOK,  ELIZA 
19    COOPER   JAMES  FENIMORE 

.    193 
.      86 

Y    .    284 
.    195 
.      59 
.    296 

58.  PIATT,  MRS.  S.  M.  B. 
59.  PROCTER,  ADELAIDE  ANNE 
60.  READ,  T.  B. 
61.  RUSSELL,  JOHN   . 
62.  SANGSTER,  MRS.  M.  E. 
63    SAXE,  J.  G.         ... 

.    252 
.    258 
.     200 
.      77 
.    163 
290 

20   COWPEB       .       »    •    • 

.    176 

64   SHAKESPEARE       .        . 

328 

21    DICKENS       ... 

.    247 

65   SHEPHERD    ... 

262 

22.  DIMOND,  WILLIAM 
23.  EASTMAN,  C.  G.          . 
24.  EDGEWORTH,  MARIA  . 
25    FINCH    F.  M. 

.    312 
.      49 
.    27S 
.    18S 

66.  SOUTHEY,  MRS.  C.  A. 
67.  SOUTHEY,  ROBERT 
68.  SPRAGUE,  CHARLES     . 
69    STODDARD    R.  H.        . 

.      12 
82,  128 
.    271 
.    819 

26.  FOLLEN,  MRS.  E.  L.  . 
27   GOLDSMITH  .... 

.    245 

.      87 

70.  TAYLOR,  B.  F.    . 
71    TAYLOR,  JANE    ... 

.    289 

114  283 

28   GOODRICH   8    G. 

.    108 

72   TENNYSON    .... 

.    277 

29.  GRIMKE'  THOMAS  S.    . 
80.  HALE,  MRS.  8.  J.       . 
81.  HARTE,  FRANCIS  BRET 

.    350 
.      67 
.    849 

78.  THACKERAY 
74.  THAXTER,  CELIA 
75.  THOMPSON,  D.  P. 

.    321 

.    282 
.    234 

82.  HAWES,  W.  P.    . 
33.  HAWTHORNE 
34.  HELPS,  ARTHUR 
35.  HEMANS,  FELICIA  D. 
86.  HOOD,  THOMAS    . 

.    180 
.    108 
.    809 
.    171 
.    143 
95 

76.  THOMSON,  JAMES 
77.  THOREAU,  H.  D. 
78.  TODD,  JOHN 
79.  WARNER,  CHARLES  DUDLEY 
80.  "CAPITAL"  (WASHINGTON) 
81    WEBSTER                      . 

.    159 
.    278 
.     204 
.      50 
.    185 
196 

88.  INGELOW,  JEAN  . 
89.  IRVING         .        .        .     119, 
40.  JEHBOLD,  DOUGLAS     . 
41.  JOHNSON,  SAMUEL 
42.  KEBLE,  JOHN 
43.  KiNGSLtY,  CHARLES    . 
44.  KNOWLES,  SHERIDAN 

(38) 

.      52 
132,  253 
.     151 
.    843 
.    195 
.      71 
,    207 

82.  WEEMS,  MASON  L.      . 
83.  WHITTIEB    ...        63, 
84.  WILSON,  JOHN 
85.  WIRT,  WILLIAM 
86.  WOLFE,  CHARLES 
87.  WOTTON,  SIB  HENBY 

.      88 
74,  259 
.      96 
.    280 
.    301 
.    806 

L   THE  GOOD  READER. 

1.  IT  is  told  of  Frederick  the  Great,  King  of  Prussia, 
that,  as  he  was  seated  one  day  in  his  private  room,  a 
written  petition  was  brought  to  him  with  the  request  that 
it  should  be  immediately  read.  The  King  had  just  re- 

(89) 


40  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

turned  from  hunting,  and  the  glare  of  the  sun,  or  some 
other  cause,  had  so  dazzled  his  eyes  that  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  make  out  a  single  word  of  the  writing. 

2.  His  private  secretary  happened  to  be  absent ;  and  the 
soldier  who  brought  the  petition  could  not  read.     There 
was  a  page,  or  favorite  boy  servant,  waiting  in  the  hall, 
and  upon  him  the  King  called.     The  page  was  a  son  of  one 
of  the  noblemen  of  the  court,  but  proved  to  be  a  very  poor 
reader. 

3.  In  the  first  place,  he  did  not  articulate  distinctly. 
He  huddled  his  words  together  in  the  utterance,  as  if  they 
were  syllables  of  one  long  word,  which  he  must  get  through 
with  as  speedily  as  possible.     His  pronunciation  was  bad, 
and  he  did  not  modulate  his  voice  so  as  to  bring  out  the 
meaning  of  what  he  read.     Every  sentence  was  uttered  with 
a  dismal  monotony  of  voice,  as  if  it  did  not  differ  in  any 
respect  from  that  which  preceded  it. 

4.  "  Stop ! "  said  the  King,  impatiently.     "  Is  it  an  auc- 
tioneer's list  of  goods  to  be  sold  that  you  are  hurrying 
over  ?     Send  your  companion  to  me.77     Another  page  who 
stood  at  the  door  now  entered,  and  to  him  the  King  gave 
the  petition.     The   second   page   began  by  hemming  and 
clearing  his  throat  in  such  an  affected  manner  that  the 
King  jokingly  asked  him  whether  he  had  not  slept  in  the 
public  garden,  with  the  gate  open,  the  night  before. 

5.  The  second  page  had  a  good   share   of   self-conceit, 
however,  and  so  was  not  greatly  confused  by  the  King's 
jest.      He  determined  that  he  would   avoid  the   mistake 
which  his  comrade  had  made.     So  he  commenced  reading 
the  petition  slowly  and  with  great  formality,  emphasizing 
every  word,  and  prolonging  the  articulation  of  every  sylla- 
ble.    But  his  manner  was  so  tedious  that  the  King  cried 
out,  "Stop!   are  you  reciting  a  lesson  in  the  elementary 
sounds  ?     Out  of  the  room !     But  no :  stay !     Send  me  that 
little  girl  who  is  sitting  there  by  the  fountain." 

6.  The  girl  thus  pointed  out  by  the  King  was  a  daughter 


FIFTH    READER.  41 

of  one  of  the  laborers  employed  by  the  royal  gardener; 
and  she  had  come  to  help  her  father  weed  the  flower  beds. 
It  chanced  that,  like  many  of  the  poor  people  in  Prussia, 
she  had  received  a  good  education.  She  was  somewhat 
alarmed  when  she  found  herself  in  the  King's  presence,  but 
took  courage  when  the  King  told  her  that  he  only  wanted 
her  to  read  for  him,  as  his  eyes  were  weak. 

7.  Now,  Ernestine  (for  this  was  the  name  of  the  little 
girl)  was  fond  of  reading  aloud,  and  often  many  of  the 
neighbors  would  assemble  at  her  father's  house  to  hear 
her ;  those  who  could  not  read  themselves  would  come  to 
her,  also,  with  their  letters  from  distant  friends  or  children, 
and  she  thus  formed  the  habit  of  reading  various  sorts  of 
handwriting  promptly  and  well. 

8.  The  King  gave  her  the  petition,   and  she  rapidly 
glanced  through  the  opening  lines  to   get  some  idea  of 
what  it  was  about.     As  she  read,  her  eyes  began  to  glisten, 
and  her  breast  to  heave.     "What  is  the  matter?"  asked 
the  King ;    "  don't  you  know  how  to  read  ?  "     "  Oh,  yes ! 
sire,"  she  replied,  addressing  him   with  the  title  usually 
applied  to  him:    "I  will  now  read  it,  if  you  please." 

9.  The  two  pages  were  about  to  leave  the  room.     "Re- 
main," said  the  King.     The  little  girl  began  to  read  the 
petition.     It  was  from  a  poor  widow,  whose  only  son  had 
been  drafted  to  serve  in  the  army,  although  his  health  was 
delicate  and  his  pursuits  had  been  such  as  to  unfit  him  for 
military  life.     His  father  had  been  killed  in  battle,  and  the 
son  had  a  strong  desire  to  become  a  portrait  painter. 

10.  The  writer  told  her  story  in  a  simple,  concise  man- 
ner, that  carried  to  the  heart  a  belief  of  its  truth;   and 
Ernestine  read  it  with  so  much  feeling,  and  with  an  artic- 
ulation so  just,  in  tones  so  pure  and  distinct,  that  when 
she  had  finished,  the  King,  into  whose  eyes  the  tears  had 
started,  exclaimed,  "  Oh !   now  I  understand  what  it  is  all 
about;    but  I  might  never  have  known,  certainly  I  never 
should  have  felt,  its  meaning  had  I  trusted  to  these  young 


42  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

gentlemen,  whom  I  now  dismiss  from  my  service  for  one 
year,  advising  them  to  occupy  their  time  in  learning  to 
read." 

11.  "  As  for  you,  my  young  lady,"  continued  the  King, 
"I  know  you  will  ask  no  better  reward  for  your  trouble 
than  the  pleasure  of  carrying  to  this  poor  widow  my  order 
for  her  son's  immediate  discharge.     Let  me  see  whether  you 
can  write  as  well  as  you  can  read.   Take  this  pen,  and  write 
as  I  dictate."     He  then  dictated  an  order,  which  Ernestine 
wrote,  and  he  signed.     Calling  one  of  his  guards,  he  bade 
him  go  with  the  girl  and  see  that  the  order  was  obeyed. 

12.  How  much  happiness  was  Ernestine  the  means  of 
bestowing  through  her  good  elocution,  united  to  the  happy 
circumstance  that  brought  it  to  the  knowledge  of  the  King ! 
First,  there  were  her  poor  neighbors,  to  whom  she  could 
give  instruction  and  entertainment.     Then,  there  was  the 
poor  widow  who  sent  the  petition,  and  who  not  only  re- 
gained her  son,  but  received  through  Ernestine  an  order  for 
him  to  paint  the  King's  likeness ;  so  that  the  poor  boy  soon 
rose  to  great  distinction,  and  had  more  orders  than  he 
could  attend  to.     Words  could  not  express  his  gratitude, 
and  that  of  his  mother,  to  the  little  girl. 

13.  And  Ernestine  had,  moreover,  the  satisfaction  of  aid- 
ing her  father  to  rise  in  the  world,  so  that  he  became  the 
King's  chief  gardener.     The  King  did  not  forget  her,  but 
had  her  well  educated  at  his  own  expense.     As  for  the  two 
pages,  she  was  indirectly  the  means  of  doing  them  good, 
also;   for,  ashamed  of  their  bad  reading,  they  commenced 
studying  in  earnest,  till  they  overcame  the  faults  that  had 
offended  the  King.     Both  finally  rose  to  distinction,  one  as 
a  lawyer,  and  the  other  as  a  statesman;   and  they  owed 
their  advancement  in  life  chiefly  to  their  good  elocution. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Pe-ti'tion,  a  formal  request.  3.  Ar-tXe'u-late, 
to  utter  the  elementary  sounds.  Mod'u-late,  to  vary  or  inflect. 
Monot'o-ny,  lack  of  variety.  4.  Af-feet'ed,  unnatural  and  silly. 


FIFTH    READER.  43 

9.  Draft'ed,  selected  by  lot.  10.  Concise',  brief  and  futt  of  meaning. 
11.  Dis-charge',  release.  Dictate,  to  utter  so  that  another  may  write 
down.  12.  Dis-tfne'tion,  honorable  and  notable  position.  Ex-press', 
to  make  known  the  feelings  of. 

NOTES.  — Frederick  H.  of  Prussia  (b.  1712,  d.  1788),  or  Fred- 
erick the  Great,  as  he  was  called,  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  Ger- 
man rulers.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  military  exploits,  for 
nis  wise  and  just  government,  and  for  his  literary  attainments. 
He  wrote  many  able  works  in  the  French  language.  Many  pleas- 
ant anecdotes  are  told  of  this  king,  of  which  the  one  given  in  the 
lesson  is  a  fair  sample. 


II.   THE  BLUEBELL. 

1.  THERE  is  a  story  I  have  heard  — 
A  poet  learned  it  of  a  bird, 

And  kept  its  music  every  word — 

2.  A  story  of  a  dim  ravine, 

O'er  which  the  towering  tree  tops  lean, 
With  one  blue  rift  of  sky  between; 

3.  And  there,  two  thousand  years  ago, 
A  little  flower  as  white  as  snow 
Swayed  in  the  silence  to  and  fro. 

4   Day  after  day,  with  longing  eye, 

The  floweret  watched  the  narrow  sky, 
And  fleecy  clouds  that  floated  by. 

5.  And  through  the  darkness,  night  by  night, 
One  gleaming  star  would  climb  the  height, 
And  cheer  the  lonely  floweret's  sight. 

6.  Thus,  watching  the  blue  heavens  afar, 
And  the  rising  of  its  favorite  star, 

A  slow  change  came — but  not  to  mar; 


44  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

7.  For  softly  o'er  its  petals  white 
There  crept  a  blueness,  like  the  light 
Of  skies  upon  a  summer  night; 

8.  And  in  its  chalice,  I  am  told, 

The  bonny  bell  was  formed  to  hold 
A  tiny  star  that  gleamed  like  gold. 

9.  Now,  little  people,  sweet  and  true, 
I  find  a  lesson  here  for  you 

Writ  in  the  floweret's  bell  of  blue: 

10.  The  patient  child  whose  watchful  eye 
Strives  after  all  things  pure  and  high, 
Shall  take  their  image  by  and  by. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  "Rift,  a  narrow  opening,  a  cleft.  3.  Swayed, 
swung.  5.  Height  (pro.  hlte),  an  elevated  place.  7.  Pet'als,  the 
colored  leaves  of  a  flower.  8.  Chaise,  a  cup  or  bowl.  Bon'ny, 
beautiful. 


HI.    THE  GENTLE  HAND. 

Timothy  S.  Arthur  (6.  1809,  d.  1885)  was  born  near  Newburgh,  N.Y., 
but  passed  most  of  his  life  at  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia.  His  oppor- 
tunities for  good  schooling  were  quite  limited,  and  he  may  be  consid- 
ered a  self-educated  man.  He  was  the  author  of  more  than  a  hundred 
volumes,  principally  novels  of  a  domestic  and  moral  tone,  and  of  many 
shorter  tales —  magazine  articles,  etc.  "  Ten  Nights  in  a  Barroom,"  and 
"Three  Years  in  a  Mantrap,"  are  among  his  best  known  works. 

1.  WHEN  and  where  it  matters  not  now  to  relate  —  but 
once  upon  a  time,  as  I  was  passing  through  a  thinly  peo- 
pled district  of  country,  night  came  down  upon  me  almost 
unawares.  Being  on  foot,  I  could  not  hope  to  gain  the 
village  toward  which  my  steps  were  directed,  until  a 


EEADJSB.  45 

late  hour ;  and  I  therefore  preferred  seeking  shelter  and  a 
night's  lodging  at  the  first  humble  dwelling  that  presented 
itself. 

2.  Dusky  twilight  was  giving  place  to  deeper  shadows, 
when  I  found  myself  in  the  vicinity  of  a  dwelling,  from 
the  small  uncurtained  windows  of  which  the  light  shone 
with  a  pleasant  promise  of  good  cheer  and  comfort.    The 
house  stood  within  an  inclosure,  and  a  short  distance  from 
the  road  along  which  I  was  moving  with  wearied  feet. 

3.  Turning  aside,  and  passing  through  the  ill-hung  gate, 
I  approached  the  dwelling.     Slowly  the  gate  swung  on  its 
wooden  hinges,  and  the  rattle  of  its  latch,  in  closing,  did 
not  disturb  the  air  until  I  had  nearly  reached  the  porch  in 
front  of  the  house,  in  which  a  slender  girl,  who  had  noticed 
my  entrance,  stood  awaiting  my  arrival. 

4.  A  deep,  quick  bark  answered,  almost  like  an  echo,  the 
sound  of  the  shutting  gate,  and,  sudden  as  an  apparition, 
the  form  of  an  immense  dog  loomed  in  the  doorway.     At 
the  instant  when  he  was  about  to  spring,  a  light  hand  was 
laid  upon  his  shaggy  neck,  and  a  low  word  spoken. 

5.  "  Go  in,  Tiger,"  said  the  girl,  not  in  a  voice  of  au- 
thority, yet  in  her  gentle  tones  was  the  consciousness  that 
she  would  be  obeyed ;   and,  as  she  spoke,  she  lightly  bore 
upon  the  animal  with  her  hand,  and  he  turned  away  and 
disappeared  within  the  dwelling. 

6.  "  Who's  that  ?  "     A  rough  voice  asked  the  question ; 
and  now  a  heavy-looking  man  took  the  dog's  place  in  the 
door. 

7.  "  How  far  is  it  to  G ? ''  I  asked,  not  deeming  it 

best  to  say,  in  the  beginning,  that  I  sought  a  resting  place 
for  the  night. 

8.  "To  G- 1"  growled  the  man,  but  not  so  harshly 

as  at  first.     "  It  's  good  six  miles  from  here." 

9.  "  A  long  distance ;  and  I  'm  a  stranger  and  on  foot," 
said  I.     "  If  you  can  make  room  for  me  until  morning,  I 
will  be  very  thankful." 


46  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

10.  I  saw  the  girl's  hand  move  quickly  up  his  arm,  until 
it  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  now  she  leaned  to  him  still 
closer. 

11.  "Come  in.     We'll  try  what  can  be  done  for  you." 
There  was   a  change  in  the  man's  voice  that  made  me 
wonder.     I  entered  a  large  room,  in  which  blazed  a  brisk 
fire.     Before  the  fire  sat  two  stout  lads,  who  turned  upon 
me  their  heavy  eyes,  with  no  very  welcome  greeting.     A 
middle-aged  woman  was  standing  at  a  table,  and  two  chil- 
dren were  amusing  themselves  with  a  kitten  on  the  floor. 

12.  "  A  stranger,  mother,"  said  the  man  who  had  given 
me  so  rude  a  greeting  at  the  door;  "and  he  wants  us  to 
let  him  stay  all  night." 

13.  The  woman  looked  at  me  doubtingly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  replied  coldly,  "We  don't  keep  a  public 
house." 

14.  "  I  'm  aware  of  that,  ma'am,"  said  I ;  "  but  night  has 
overtaken  me,  and  it 's  a  long  way  yet  to  G ." 

15.  "  Too  far  for  a  tired  man  to  go  on  foot,"  said  the 
master  of  the  house,  kindly,  "  so  it 's  no  use  talking  about 
it,  mother ;  we  must  give  him  a  bed." 

16.  So  unobtrusively  that  I  scarce  noticed  the  movement, 
the  girl  had  drawn  to  her  mother's  side.     What  she  said  to 
her  I  did  not  hear,  for  the  brief  words  were  uttered  in  a 
low  voice ;  but  I  noticed,  as  she  spoke,  one  small,  fair  hand 
rested  on  the  woman's  hand. 

17.  Was  there  magic  in  that  touch?    The  woman's  re- 
pulsive aspect  changed  into  one  of  kindly  welcome,  and  she 

said,  "Yes,  it 's  a  long  way  to  G .    I  guess  we  can  find 

a  place  for  him." 

18.  Many  times  more  during  that  evening,  did  I  observe 
the  magic  power  of  that  hand  and  voice  —  the  one  gentle 
yet  potent  as  the  other.     On  the  next  morning,  breakfast 
being  over,  I  was  preparing  to  take  my  departure  when 
my  host  informed  me  that  if  I  would  wait  for  half  an 
hour  he  would  give  me  a  ride  in  his  wagon  to  G ,  as 


FIFTH    READER.  47 

business  required  him  to  go  there.    I  was  very  well  pleased 
to  accept  of  the  invitation. 

19.  In  due  time,  the  farmer's  wagon  was  driven  into 
the  road  before  the  house,  and  I  was  invited  to  get  in.     I 
noticed  the  horse  as  a  rough-looking  Canadian  pony,  with  a 
certain  air  of  stubborn  endurance.     As  the  farmer  took  his 
seat  by  my  side,  the  family  came  to  the  door  to  see  us  off. 

20.  "  Dick ! "   said   the   farmer   in  a  peremptory  voice, 
giving  the   rein  a  quick  jerk  as  he   spoke.      But   Dick 
moved  not  a  step.     "  Dick !  you  vagabond !  get  up."    And 
the  farmer's  whip  cracked  sharply  by  the  pony's  ear. 

21.  It  availed  not,  however,  this  second  appeal.     Dick 
stood  firmly  disobedient.     Next  the  whip  was  brought  down 
upon  him  with  an  impatient  hand;    but  the   pony  only 
reared  up  a  little.     Past  and  sharp  the  strokes  were  next 
dealt  to  the  number  of  half  a  dozen.     The  man  might  as 
well  have  beaten  the  wagon,  for  all  his  end  was  gained. 

22.  A  stout  lad  now  came  out  into  the  road,  and,  catch- 
ing Dick  by  the  bridle,  jerked  him  forward,  using,  at  the 
same  time,  the  customary  language  on  such  occasions,  but 
Dick  met  this  new  ally  with  increased  stubbornness,  plant- 
ing his  fore  feet  more  firmly  and  at  a  sharper  angle  with 
the  ground. 

23.  The  impatient  boy  now  struck  the  pony  on  the  side 
of  the  head  with  his  clinched  hand,  and  jerked  cruelly  at 
his  bridle.     It  availed  nothing,  however;  Dick  was  not  to 
be  wrought  upon  by  any  such  arguments. 

24.  "Don't  do  so,  John!"     I  turned  my  head  as  the 
maiden's   sweet  voice  reached  my  ear.     She  was  passing 
through  the  gate  into  the  road,  and  in  the  next  moment 
had  taken  hold  of  the  lad  and  drawn  him  away  from  the 
animal.     No  strength  was  exerted  in  this ;  she  took  hold  of 
his  arm,  and  he  obeyed  her  wish  as  readily  as  if  he  had  no 
thought  beyond  her  gratification. 

25.  And  now  that  soft  hand  was  laid  gently  on  the  pony's 
neck,  and  a  single  low  word  spoken.     How  instantly  were 


48  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

the  tense  muscles  relaxed  —  how  quickly  the  stubborn  air 
vanished ! 

26.  "Poor  Dick!"  said  the  maiden,  as  she  stroked  his 
neck  lightly,  or   softly   patted  it  with  a  childlike  hand. 
*  Now,  go  along,  you  provoking  fellow ! "  she  added,  in  a 
half-chiding,  yet  affectionate  voice,  as  she  drew  up  the 
bridle. 

27.  The  pony  turned  toward  her,  and  rubbed  his  head 
against  her  arm  for  an  instant  or  two;  then,  pricking  up 
his  ears,  he  started  off  at  a  light,  cheerful  trot,  and  went  on 
his  way  as  freely  as  if  no  silly  crotchet  had  ever  entered  his 
stubborn  brain. 

28.  "What  a  wonderful  power  that  hand  possesses!" 
said  I,  speaking  to  my  companion,  as  we  rode  away. 

29.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  as  if  my  remark  had 
occasioned  surprise.     Then  a  light  came  into  his  counte- 
nance, and  he  said  briefly,  "  She 's  good !    Everybody  and 
everything  loves  her." 

30.  Was  that,  indeed,  the  secret  of  her  power?    Was 
the  quality  of  her  soul  perceived  in  the  impression  of  her 
hand,  even  by  brute  beasts !    The  father's  explanation  was 
doubtless  the  true  one.     Yet  have  I  ever  since  wondered, 
and  still  do  wonder,  at  the   potency  which  lay  in  that 
maiden's  magic  touch.     I  have  seen  something  of  the  same 
power,  showing  itself  in  the  loving  and  the  good,  but  never 
to  the  extent  as  instanced  in  her,  whom,  for  want  of  a  better 
name,  I  must  still  call  "  Gentle  Hand." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Vi-cin'i-ty,  neighborhood.  16.  Un-ob-tru'- 
slve-ly,  not  noticeably,  modestly.  17.  Re-piil'sive,  repelling,  forbid- 
ding. 18.  Po'tent,  powerful,  effective.  Host,  one  from  whom 
another  receives  food,  lodging,  or  entertainment.  20.  Per'emp-to-ry, 
commanding,  decisive.  21.  A-vailed',  was  of  use,  had  effect. 
22.  Al-ly',  a  confederate,  one  who  unites  with  another  in  some  pur- 
pose. 25.  Tense,  strained  to  stiffness,  rigid.  Re-laxed',  loosened. 
26.  Chld'ing,  scolding,  rebuking.  27.  Crotch'et,  a  perverse  fancyt 
a  whim.  30.  Iii'staiHjed,  mentioned  as  an  example. 


FIFTH   READER.  49 


IV.    THE  GRANDFATHER. 

Charles  G.  Eastman  (6. 1816,  d.  1861)  was  born  in  Maine,  but  removed 
at  an  early  age  to  Vermont,  where  he  was  connected  with  the  press  at 
Burlington,  Woodstock,  and  Montpelier.  He  published  a  volume  of 
poems  in  1848,  written  in  a  happy  lyric  and  ballad  style,  and  faithfully 
portraying  rural  life  in  New  England. 

1.  THE  farmer  sat  in  his  easy-chair 

Smoking  his  pipe  of  clay, 
While  his  hale  old  wife  with  busy  care, 

Was  clearing  the  dinner  away; 
A  sweet  little  girl  with  fine  blue  eyes, 
On  her  grandfather's  knee,  was  catching  flies. 

2.  The  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  her  head, 

With  a  tear  on  his  wrinkled  face, 
He  thought  how  often  her  mother,  dead, 

Had  sat  in  the  selfsame  place; 
As  the  tear  stole  down  from  his  half-shut  eye, 
"Don't  smoke ! "  said  the  child,  "  how  it  makes  you  cry ! n 

3.  The  house  dog  lay  stretched  out  on  the  floor, 

Where  the  shade,  afternoons,  used  to  steal; 
The  busy  old  wife  by  the  open  door 

Was  turning  the  spinning  wheel, 
And  the  old  brass  clock  on  the  manteltree 
Had  plodded  along  to  almost  three. 

4.  Still  the  farmer  sat  in  his  easy-chair, 

While  close  to  his  heaving  breast 
The  moistened  brow  and  the  cheek  so  fair 

Of  his  sweet  grandchild  were  pressed; 
His  head  bent  down,  on  her  soft  hair  lay; 
Fast  asleep  were  they  both  on  that  summer  day. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Hale,  healthy.  3.  Man'tel-tree,  shelf  over  a 
fireplace.  Plod'ded,  went  slowly.  4.  Heading,  rising  and  falling. 

(5.— 4.) 


50  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


V.    A  BOY  ON  A  FARM. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  (&.  1829, )  was  born  at  Plainfield,  Mass. 

In  1851  he  graduated  at  Hamilton  College,  and  in  1856  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  at  Philadelphia,  but  moved  to  Chicago  to  practice  his  profession. 
There  he  remained  until  1860,  when  he  became  connected  with  the  press 
at  Hartford,  Conn.,  and  has  ever  since  devoted  himself  to  literature. 
"  My  Summer  in  a  Garden,"  "  Saunterings,"  and  "  Backlog  Studies  "  are 
his  best  known  works.  The  following  extract  is  from  "  Being  a  Boy." 

1.  SAY  what  you  will   about  the  general  usefulness  of 
boys,  it  is  my  impression  that  a  farm  without  a  boy  would 
very  soon  come  to  grief.     What  the  boy  does  is  the  life  of 
the  farm.     He  is  the  factotum,  always  in  demand,  always 
expected  to   do   the   thousand  indispensable   things   that 
nobody  else  will  do.     Upon  him  fall  all  the  odds  and  ends, 
the  most  difficult  things. 

2.  After  everybody  else  is  through,  he  has  to  finish  up. 
His  work  is  like  a  woman's,  —  perpetually  waiting  on  others. 
Everybody  knows  how  much  easier  it  is  to  eat  a  good 
dinner  than  it  is  to  wash  the  dishes  afterwards.     Consider 
what  a  boy  on  a  farm  is  required  to  do,  —  things  that  must 
be  done,  or  life  would  actually  stop. 

3.  It  is  understood,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  is  to  do  all 
the  errands,  to  go  to  the  store,  to  the  post  office,  and  to 
carry  all  sorts  of  messages.     If  he  had  as  many  legs  as  a 
centiped,   they  would   tire   before   night.     His  two   short 
limbs   seem  to  him  entirely  inadequate  to  the   task.     He 
would  like  to  have  as  many  legs  as  a  wheel  has  spokes,  and 
rotate  about  in  the  same  way. 

4.  This  he  sometimes  tries  to  do ;  and  the  people  who 
have  seen  him  "  turning  cart  wheels  "  along  the  side  of  the 
road,  have  supposed  that  he  was  amusing  himself  and  idling 
his  time ;  he  was  only  trying  to  invent  a  new  mode  of  loco- 
motion, so  that  he  could  economize  his  legs,  and  do  his 
errands  with  greater  dispatch. 

5.  He  practices    standing  on  his   head,  in  order  to  ac- 
custom himself  to  any  position.     Leapfrog  is  one  of   his 


FIFTH   HEADER.  51 

methods  of  getting  over  the  ground  quickly.  He  would 
willingly  go  an  errand  any  distance  if  he  could  leapfrog  it 
with  a  few  other  boys. 

6.  He  has  a  natural  genius  for  combining  pleasure  with 
business.     This  is  the  reason  why,  when  he  is  sent  to  the 
spring  for  a  pitcher  of  water,  he  is  absent  so  long ;  for  he 
stops  to  poke  the  frog  that  sits  on  the  stone,  or,  if  there  is 
a  penstock,  to  put  his  hand  over  the  spout,  and  squirt  the 
water  a  little  while. 

7.  He  is  the  one  who  spreads  the  grass  when  the  men 
have  cut  it;  he  mows  it  away  in  the  barn;  he  rides  the 
horse,  to  cultivate  the  corn,  up  and  down  the  hot,  weary 
rows;  he  picks  up  the  potatoes  when  they  are  dug;  he 
drives  the  cows  night  and  morning;  he  brings  wood  and 
water,  and  splits  kindling ;  he  gets  up  the  horse,  and  puts 
out  the  horse;  whether  he  is  in  the  house  or  out  of  it, 
there  is  always  something  for  him  to  do. 

8.  Just  before  the  school  in  winter  he  shovels  paths ;  in 
summer  he  turns  the  grindstone.     He  knows  where  there 
are  lots  of  wintergreens   and  sweet  flags,  but  instead  of 
going  for  them,  he  is  to  stay  indoors  and  pare  apples,  and 
stone  raisins,  and  pound  something  in  a  mortar.     And  yet, 
with  his  mind  full  of  schemes  of  what  he  would  like  to  do, 
and  his  hands  full  of  occupations,  he  is  an  idle  boy,  who 
has  nothing  to  busy  himself  with  but  school  and  chores  ! 

9.  He  would  gladly  do  all  the  work  if  somebody  else 
would  do  the  chores,  he  thinks ;    and  yet  I  doubt  if  any 
boy  ever  amounted  to   anything  in  the  world,  or  was  of 
much  use  as  a  man,  who  did  not  enjoy  the  advantages  of 
a  liberal  education  in  the  way  of  chores. 

DEFINITIONS,  -r—  1.  Fae-td'tum,  a  person  employed  to  do  all  kinds 
of  work.  In-dis-pen'sa-ble,  absolutely  necessary.  2.  Per-pet'u-al-ly, 
continually.  3.  Cen'ti-ped,  an  insect  with  a  great  number  of  feet. 
4.  E-eon'omize,  to  save.  Dis-patch',  diligence,  haste.  6.  Pen'- 
stock,  a  wooden  tube  for  conducting  water.  8.  Choreg,  the  light 
work  of  the  household  either  within  or  without  doors. 


52  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


VI.    THE  SINGING  LESSON. 

Jean  Ingelow  (6. 1830,  d.  1897)  was  born  at  Boston,  Lincolnshire,  Eng- 
land. Her  fame  as  a  poetess  was  at  once  established  upon  the  publica- 
tion of  her  "Poems"  in  1863;  since  which  time  several  other  volumes 
have  appeared.  The  most  generally  admired  of  her  poems  are  "  Songs  of 
Seven "  and  "  The  High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of  Lincolnshire."  She  has 
also  written  several  successful  novels,  of  which  "  Off  the  Skelligs  "  is  the 
most  popular.  "Stories  Told  to  a  Child,"  "The  Cumberers,"  "Poor 
Mat,"  "Studies  for  Stories,"  and  "Mopsa,  the  Fairy"  are  also  well 
known.  Miss  Ingelow  resided  in  London,  England,  and  spent  much  of 
her  time  in  deeds  of  charity. 

1.  A  NIGHTINGALE  made  a  mistake; 

She  sang  a  few  notes  out  of  tune: 
Her  heart  was  ready  to  break, 

And  she  hid  away  from  the  moon. 
She  wrung  her  claws,  poor  thing, 

But  was  far  too  proud  to  weep; 
She  tucked  her  head  under  her  wing, 

And  pretended  to  be  asleep. 

2.  A  lark,  arm  in  arm  with  a  thrush, 

Came  sauntering  up  to  the  place; 
The  nightingale  felt  herself  blush, 

Though  feathers  hid  her  face; 
She  knew  they  had  heard  her  song, 

She  felt  them  snicker  and  sneer; 
She  thought  that  life  was  too  long, 

And  wished  she  could  skip  a  year. 

&   "  0  nightingale ! "  cooed  a  dove ; 

"  0  nightingale  !  what 's  the  use  ? 
You  bird  of  beauty  and  love, 

Why  behave  like  a  goose? 
Don't  sulk  away  from  our  sight, 

Like  a  common,  contemptible  fowl; 
You  bird  of  joy  and  delight, 

Why  behave  like  an  owl  ? 


FIFTH   READER.  53 

4.  "Only  think  of  all  you  have  done; 

Only  think  of  all  you  can  do; 
A  false  note  is  really  fun 

From  such  a  bird  as  you! 
Lift  up  your  proud  little  crest, 

Open  your  musical  beak; 
Other  birds  have  to  do  their  best> 

You  need  only  to  speak!" 

5  The  nightingale  shyly  took 

Her  head  from  under  her  wing, 
And,  giving  the  dove  a  look, 
Straightway  began  to  sing. 
There  was  never  a  bird  could  pass; 

The  night  was  divinely  calm; 
And  the  people  stood  on  the  grass 
To  hear  that  wonderful  psalm. 

6.  The  nightingale  did  not  care, 

She  only  sang  to  the  skies; 
Her  song  ascended  there, 

And  there  she  fixed  her  eyes. 
The  people  that  stood  below 

She  knew  but  little  about; 
And  this  tale  has  a  moral,  I  know, 

If  you'll  try  and  find  it  out. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Saun'ter-ing,  wandering  idly,  strolling. 
Snick'er,  to  laugh  in  a  half-suppressed  manner.  4.  Crest,  a  tuft 
growing  on  an  animaVs  head.  5.  Di-vlne'ly,  in  a  supreme  degree. 
6.  Mor'al,  the  practical  lesson  which  anything  isjitted  to  teach. 

NOTE.  —  The  nightingale  is  a  .small  bird,  about  six  inches  in 
length,  with  a  coat  of  dark-brown  feathers  above  and  of  grayish- 
white  beneath.  Its  voice  is  astonishingly  strong  and  sweet,  and, 
when  wild,  it  usually  sings  throughout  the  evening  and  night 
from  April  to  the  middle  of  summer.  The  bird  is  common  in 
Europe,  but  is  not  found  in  America. 


54  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


VII.   DO  NOT  MEDDLE. 

1.  ABOUT  twenty  years  ago  there  lived  a  singular  gentle- 
man in  the  Old  Hall  among  the  elm  trees.     He  was  about 
three-score  years  of  age,  very  rich,  and  somewhat  odd  in 
many  of  his  habits,  but  for  generosity  and  benevolence  he 
had  no  equal. 

2.  No  poor  cottager  stood  in  need  of  comforts,  which  he 
was  not  ready  to  supply ;  no  sick  man  or  woman  languished 
for  want  of  his  assistance ;  and  not  even  a  beggar,  unless  a 
known  impostor,  went  empty-handed  from  the  Hall.     Like 
the  village  pastor  described  in  Goldsmith's  poem  of  "  The 
Deserted  Village/' 

"His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train; 
He  chid  their  wand'rings,  but  relieved  their  pain; 
The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 
"Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  breast." 

3.  Now  it  happened  that  the  old  gentleman  wanted  a 
boy  to  wait  upon  him  at  table,  and  to  attend  him  in  differ- 
ent ways,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  young  people.     But 
much  as  he  liked  the  society  of  the  young,  he  had  a  great 
aversion  to  that  curiosity  in  which  many  young  people  are 
apt  to  indulge.     He  used  to  say,  "  The  boy  who  will  peep 
into  a  drawer  will  be  tempted  to  take  something  out  of  it ; 
and  he  who  will  steal  a  penny  in  his  youth  will  steal  a 
pound  in  his  manhood." 

4.  No  sooner  was  it  known  that  the  old  gentleman  was  in 
want  of  a  boy  than  twenty  applications  were  made  for  the 
situation;   but  he  determined  not  to  engage  anyone  until 
he  had  in  some  way  ascertained  that  he  did  not  possess  a 
curious,  prying  disposition. 

5.  On  Monday  morning  seven  iads,  dressed  in  their  Sun- 
day clothes,  with  bright  and  happy  faces,  made  their  ap- 
pearance at  the  Hall,  each  of  them  desiring  to  obtain  the 
situation.     Now  the  old  gentleman,  being  of  a  singular  dis- 


FIFTH   READER.  55 

position,  had  prepared  a  room  in  such  a  way  that  he  might 
easily  know  if  any  of  the  young  people  who  applied  were 
given  to  meddle  unnecessarily  with  things  around  them,  or 
to  peep  into  cupboards  and  drawers.  He  took  care  that 
the  lads  who  were  then  at  Elm  Tree  Hall  should  be  shown 
into  this  room  one  after  another. 

6.  And  first,  Charles  Brown  was  sent  into  the  room,  and 
told  that  he  would  have  to  wait  a  little.     So  Charles  sat 
down  on  a  chair  near  the  door.     For  some  time  he  was 
very  quiet,  and  looked  about  him ;  but  there  seemed  to  be 
so  many  curious  things  in  the  room  that  at  last  he  got  up  to 
peep  at  them. 

7.  On  the  table  was  placed  a  dish  cover,  and  Charles 
wanted  sadly  to  know  what  was  under  it,  but  he  felt  afraid 
of  lifting  it  up.     Bad  habits  are  strong  things;   and,  as 
Charles  was  of  a  curious  disposition,  he  could  not  withstand 
the  temptation  of  taking  one  peep.     So  he  lifted  up  the 
cover. 

8.  This  turned  out  to  be  a  sad  affair ;  for  under  the  dish 
cover  was  a  heap  of  very  light  feathers ;  part  of  the  feath- 
ers, drawn  up  by  a  current  of  air,  flew  about  the  room, 
and  Charles,  in  his  fright,  putting  the  cover  down  hastily, 
puffed  the  rest  of  them  off  the  table. 

9.  What  was  to  be  done  ?    Charles  began  to  pick  up  the 
feathers  one  by  one ;  but  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  in  an 
adjoining  room,  hearing  a  scuffle,  and  guessing  the  cause  of 
it,  entered  the  room,  to  the  consternation  of  Charles  Brown, 
who  was  very  soon  dismissed  as  a  boy  who  had  not  principle 
enough  to  resist  even  a  slight  temptation. 

10.  When  the  room   was  once  more  arranged,  Henry 
Wilkins  was  placed  there  until  such  time  as  he  should  be 
sent  for.     No  sooner  was  he  left  to  himself  than  his  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  a  plate  of  fine,  ripe  cherries.     Now 
Henry  was  uncommonly  fond  of  cherries,  and  he  thought 
it  would  be  impossible  to  miss  one  cherry  among  so  many. 
He  looked  and  longed,  and  longed  and  looked,  for  some 


66  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

time,  and  just  as  he  had  got  off  his  seat  to  take  one,  he 
heard,  as  he  thought,  a  foot  coining  to  the  door;  but  no, 
it  was  a  false  alarm. 

11.  Taking  fresh  courage,  he  went  cautiously  and  took  a 
very  fine  cherry,  for  he  was  determined  to  take  but  one, 
and  put  it  into  his  mouth.     It  was  excellent ;  and  then  he 
persuaded  himself  that  he  ran  no  risk  in  taking  another ; 
this  he  did,  and  hastily  popped  it  into  his  mouth. 

12.  Now,  the  old  gentleman  had  placed  a  few  artificial 
cherries  at  the  top  of  the  others,  filled  with  Cayenne  pep- 
per; one  of  these  Henry  had  unfortunately  taken,  and  it 
made  his  mouth  smart  and  burn  most  intolerably.     The  old 
gentleman  heard  him  coughing,  and  knew  very  well  what 
was  the  matter.     The  boy  that  would  take  what  did  not 
belong  to  him,  if  no  more  than  a  cherry,  was  not  the  boy 
for  him.     Henry  Wilkins  was  sent  about  his  business  with- 
out delay,  with  his  mouth  almost  as  hot  as  if  he  had  put  a 
burning  coal  into  it. 

13.  Kufus  Wilson  was  next  introduced  into  the  room  and 
left  to  himself;   but  he  had  not  been  there  ten  minutes 
before  he  began  to  move  from  one  place  to  another.     He 
was  of  a  bold,  resolute  temper,  but  not  overburdened  with 
principle;   for  if  he  could  have  opened  every  cupboard, 
closet,  and  drawer  in  the  house,  without  being  found  out, 
he  would  have  done  it  directly. 

14.  Having  looked  around  the  room,  he  noticed  a  drawer 
to  the  table,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  peep  therein.     But 
no  sooner  did  he  lay  hold  of  the  drawer  knob  than  he  set 
a  large  bell  ringing,  which  was  concealed  under  the  table. 
The  old  gentleman  immediately  answered  the  summons,  and 
entered  the  room. 

15.  Rufus  was  so  startled  by  the  sudden  ringing  of  the 
bell,  that  all  his  impudence  could  not  support  him.     He 
looked  as  though  any  one  might  knock  him  down  with  a 
feather.     The  old  gentleman  asked  him  if  he  had  rung  the 
bell  because  he  wanted  anything.     Kufus  was  much  con- 


FIFTH  READER.  67 

fused,  and  stammered,  and  tried  to  excuse  himself,  but  all 
to  no  purpose,  for  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  being 
ordered  off  the  premises. 

16.  George  Jones  was  then  shown  into  the  room  by  an 
old  steward ;  and  being  of  a  cautious  disposition,  he  touched 
nothing,  but  only  looked  at  the  things  about  him.    At  last 
he  saw  that  a  closet  door  was  a  little  open,  and,  thinking 
it  would  be  impossible  for  any  one  to  know  that  he  had 
opened  it  a  little  more,  he  very  cautiously  opened  it  an 
inch  farther,  looking  down  at  the  bottom  of  the  door,  that 
it  might  not  catch  against  anything  and  make  a  noise. 

17.  Now  had  he  looked  at  the  top,  instead  of  the  bottom, 
it  might  have  been  better  for  him ;  for  to  the  top  of  the 
door  was  fastened  a  plug,  which  filled  up  the  hole  of  a  small 
barrel  of  shot.     He  ventured  to  open  the  door  another  inch, 
and  then  another,  till,  the  plug  being  pulled  out  of  the 
barrel,  the  leaden  shot  began  to  pour  out  at  a  strange  rate. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  closet  was  placed  a  tin  pan,  and  the 
shot  falling  upon  this  pan  made  such  a  clatter  that  George 
was  frightened  half  out  of  his  senses. 

18.  The  old  gentleman   soon  came  into   the  room   to 
inquire  what  was  the  matter,  and  there  he  found  George 
nearly  as  pale  as  a  sheet.     George  was  soon  dismissed. 

19.  It  now  came  the  turn  of  Albert  Jenkins  to  be  put 
into  the  room.      The  other  boys  had  been  sent  to  their 
homes  by  different  ways,  and  no  one  knew  what  the  expe- 
rience of  the  other  had  been  in  the  room  of  trial. 

20.  On  the  table  stood  a  small  round  box,  with  a  screw 
top  to  it,  and  Albert,  thinking  it  contained  something  curi- 
ous, could  not  be  easy  without  unscrewing  the  top ;  but  no 
sooner  did  he  do  this  than  out  bounced  an  artificial  snake, 
full  a  yard  long,  and  fell  upon  his  arm.     He  started  back, 
and  uttered  a  scream  which  brought  the  old  gentleman  to 
his  elbow.     There  stood  Albert,  with  the  bottom  of  the  box 
in  one  hand,  the  top  in  the  other,  and  the  snake  on  the 
floor. 


68  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

21.  "Come,  come,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "one  snake 
is  quite  enough  to  have  in  the  house  at  a  time ;  therefore, 
the  sooner  you  are  gone  the  better."     With  that  he  dis- 
missed him,  without  waiting  a  moment  for  his  reply. 

22.  William  Smith  next  entered  the  room,  and  being  left 
alone  soon  began  to  amuse  himself  in  looking  at  the  curi- 
osities around  him.     William  was  not  only  curious  and  pry. 
ing,  but  dishonest,  too,  and  observing  that  the  key  was  left 
in  the  drawer  of  a  bookcase,  he  stepped  on  tiptoe  in  that 
direction.     The  key  had  a  wire  fastened  to  it,  which  com- 
municated with  an  electrical  machine,  and  William  received 
such  a  shock  as  he  was  not  likely  to  forget.     No  sooner  did 
he  sufficiently  recover  himself  to  walk,  than  he  was  told  to 
leave  the  house,  and  let  other  people  lock  and  unlock  their 
own  drawers. 

23.  The  other  boy  was  Harry  Gordon,  and  though  he 
was  left  in  the  room  full  twenty  minutes,  he  never  during 
that  time  stirred  from  his  chair.     Harry  had  eyes  in  his 
head  as  well  as  the  others,  but  he  had  more  integrity  in 
his  heart ;  neither  the  dish  cover,  the  cherries,  the  drawer 
knob,  the  closet  door,  the  round  box,  nor  the  key  tempted 
him  to  rise  from  his  seat ;   and  the  consequence  was  that, 
in  half  an  hour  after,  he  was  engaged  in  the  service  of  the 
old  gentleman  at  Elm  Tree  Hall.     He  followed  his  good 
old  master  to  his  grave,  and  received  a  large  legacy  for  his 
upright  conduct  in  his  service. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Languished,  suffered,  sank  away.  Im-pos'- 
tor,  a  deceiver.  3.  A-ver'sion,  dislike.  In-diilge',  to  give  way  to. 
Pound,  a  British  denomination  of  money  equal  in  value  to  about 
$4.86.  4.  Ap-pli-ea'tion,  the  act  of  making  a  request.  9.  Con- 
ster-na'tion,  excessive  terror,  dismay.  Prln'9i-ple,  a  right  rule  of 
conduct.  12.  Ar-ti-fr'cial  (pro.  ar-ti-flsh'al),  made  by  art,  not 
real.  In-tol'er-a-bly,  in  a  manner  not  to  be  borne.  14.  Sum'mons, 
a  call  to  appear.  19.  Ex-pe'ri-eiKje,  knowledge  gained  by  actual 
Hal  23.  In-teg'ri-ty,  honesty.  Leg'a^y,  a  gift,  by  will,  of  per- 
wnal  property. 


FIFTH    READER.  69 


vin.  WORK. 

Eliza  Cook  (b.  1817,  d.  1889)  was  born  at  London.  In  1837  she  com- 
menced contributing  to  periodicals.  In  1840  the  first  collection  of  her 
poems  was  made.  In  1849  she  became  editor  of  "  Eliza  Cook's  Journal." 

1.  WORK,  work,  my  boy,  be  not  afraid; 

Look  labor  boldly  in  the  face; 
Take  up  the  hammer  or  the  spade, 
And  blush  not  for  your  humble  place. 

2.  There's  glory  in  the  shuttle's  song; 

There's  triumph  in  the  anvil's  stroke; 
There's  merit  in  the  brave  and  strong 
Who  dig  the  mine  or  fell  the  oak. 

3.  The  wind  disturbs  the  sleeping  lake, 

And  bids  it  ripple  pure  and  fresh; 
It  moves  the  green  boughs  till  they  make 
Grand  music  in  their  leafy  mesh. 

4.  And  so  the  active  breath  of  life 

Should  stir  our  dull  and  sluggard  wills; 
For  are  we  not  created  rife 

With  health,  that  stagnant  torpor  kills? 

5.  I  doubt  if  he  who  lolls  his  head 

Where  idleness  and  plenty  meet, 
Enjoys  his  pillow  or  his  bread 
As  those  who  earn  the  meals  they  eat. 

6.  And  man  is  never  half  so  blest 

As  when  the  busy  day  is  spent 
So  as  to  make  his  evening  rest 
A  holiday  of  glad  content. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  3.  Mesh,  network.  4.  Rife,  abounding.  Stag1- 
nant,  inactive.  Tor'por,  laziness,  stupidity.  5.  Lollg,  reclines,  leans. 


60  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


IX.    THE  MANIAC. 

1.  A  GENTLEMAN  who  had  traveled  in  Europe,  relates 
that  he  one  day  visited  the  hospital  of  Berlin,  where  he 
3aw  a  man  whose  exterior  was  very  striking.     His  figure, 
tall  and  commanding,  was  bending  with  age,  but  more  with 
sorrow ;  the  few  scattered  hairs  which  remained  on  his  tem- 
ples were  white  almost  as  the  driven  snow,  and  the  deepest 
melancholy  was  depicted  in  his  countenance. 

2.  On  inquiring  who  he  was   and  what   brought  him 
there,  he  started,  as  if  from  sleep,  and,  after  looking  around 
him,  began  with  slow  and  measured  steps  to  stride  the  hall, 
repeating  in  a  low  but  audible  voice,  "Once  one  is  two; 
once  one  is  two." 

3.  Now  and  then  he  would  stop,  and  remain  with  his 
arms  folded  on  his  breast  as  if  in  contemplation,  for  some 
minutes;  then  again  resuming  his  walk,  he  continued  to 
repeat,  "  Once  one  is  two ;  once  one  is  two."     His  story,  as 
our  traveler  understood  it,  is  as  follows  : 

4.  Conrad  Lange,  collector  of  the  revenues  of  the  city  of 
Berlin,  had  long  been  known  as  a  man  whom  nothing  could 
divert  from  the  paths  of  honesty.     Scrupulously  exact  in 
all  his  dealings,  and  assiduous  in  the  discharge  of  all  his 
duties,  he  had  acquired  the  good  will  and  esteem  of  all 
who  knew  him,   and  the  confidence   of   the   minister  of 
finance,  whose  duty  it  is  to  inspect  the  accounts  of  all 
officers  connected  with  the  revenue. 

5.  On  casiing  up  his  accounts  at  the  close  of  a  particular 
year,  he  found  a  deficit  of  ten  thousand  ducats.     Alarmed 
at  this  discovery,  he  went  to  the  minister,  presented  his 
accounts,  and  informed  him  that  he  did  not  know  how  it 
had  arisen,  and  that  he  had  been  robbed  by  some  person 
bent  on  his  ruin. 

6.  The  minister  received  his  accounts,  but  thinking  it  a 
duty  to  secure  a  person  who  might  probably  be  a  defaulter, 


FIFTH   READER.  61 

he  caused  him  to  be  arrested,  and  put  his  accounts  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  his  secretaries  for  inspection,  who  returned 
them  the  day  after  with  the  information  that  the  deficiency 
arose  from  a  miscalculation;  that  in  multiplying,  Mr.  Lange 
had  said,  once  one  is  two,  instead  of  once  one  is  one. 

7.  The  poor  man  was  immediately  released  from  con- 
finement, his  accounts  returned,  and  the  mistake  pointed 
out.     During  his  imprisonment,  which  lasted  two  days,  he 
had  neither  eaten,  drunk,  nor  taken  any  repose ;  and  when 
he  appeared,  his  countenance  was  as  pale  as  death.     On 
receiving  his   accounts,  he  was  a  long  time  silent;  then 
suddenly  awaking,  as  if  from  a  trance,  he  repeated,  "  Once 
one  is  two." 

8.  He  appeared  to  be  entirely  insensible  of  his  situation*, 
would  neither  eat  nor  drink,  unless  solicited;    and  took 
notice  of  nothing  that  passed  around  him.     While  repeat- 
ing his   accustomed  phrase,  if    anyone  corrected  him  by 
saying,  "Once  one  is  one,"  his  attention  was  arrested  for 
a  moment,  and  he  said,  "  Ah,  right,  once  one  is  one ; "  and 
then  resuming  his  walk,  he  continued  to  repeat,  "  Once  one 
is  two."     He  died  shortly  after  the  traveler  left  Berlin. 

9.  This  affecting  story,  whether  true  or  untrue,  obviously 
abounds  with  lessons  of  instruction.     Alas!  how  easily  is 
the  human  mind  thrown  off  its  balance;  especially  when 
it  is  stayed  on  this  world  only,  and  has  no  experimental 
knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  injunction  of  Scripture, 
to  cast  all  our  cares  upon  Him  who  careth  for  us,  and  who 
heareth  even  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ex-te'ri-or,  outward  appearance.  De-piet'ed, 
painted,  represented.  3.  Con-tem-pla'tion,  continued  attention  of 
the  mind  to  one  subject.  4.  Rev'e-nues,  the  annual  income  from 
taxes,  public  rents,  etc.  Serii'pu-lous4y,  carefully.  As-sid'u-oiis, 
constant  in  attention.  Fi-nancje',  the  income  of  a  ruler  or  a  state. 

5.  Deficit,  lack,  want.      Du-e'at,  a  gold  coin  worth  about  $2.00. 

6.  De-f ault'er,  one  who  fails  to  account  for  public  money  intrusted 
to  his  care.    9.   Qbfvi-ou&-ly,  plainly.    In-june'tion,  a  command. 


62  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


X.    ROBIN  REDBREAST. 

William  Allingham  (6.  1828,  d.  1889)  was  born  at  Ballyshannon,  Ire- 
land. His  father  was  a  banker,  and  gave  him  a  good  education  in  Irish 
schools.  He  showed  his  literary  tastes  at  an  early  date,  contributing  to 
periodicals,  etc.  In  1850  he  published  his  first  volume  of  poems ;  in  1854 
his  "Day  and  Night  Songs"  appeared,  and  in  1864  a  poem  in  twelve 
chapters  entitled  "Lawrence  Bloomfield  in  Ireland."  His  reputation  was 
established  chiefly  through  his  shorter  lyrics,  or  ballad  poetry.  In  1864  he 
received  a  literary  pension. 


1.  GOOD-BY,  good-by  to  Summer! 

For  Summer's  nearly  done; 
The  garden  smiling  faintly, 

Cool  breezes  in  the  sun; 
Our  thrushes  now  are  silent, 

Our  swallows  flown  away, — 
But  Robin's  here  in  coat  of  brown, 

And  scarlet  breastknot  gay. 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

O  Robin  dear! 
Robin  sings  so  sweetly 

In  the  falling  of  the  year. 

2.  Bright  yellow,  red,  and  orange, 

The  leaves  come  down  in  hosts; 
The  trees  are  Indian  princes, 

But  soon  they  '11  turn  to  ghosts ; 
The  leathery  pears  and  apples 

Hang  russet  on  the  bough; 
It's  autumn,  autumn,  autumn  late, 

'Twill  soon  be  winter  now. 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

O  Robin  dear! 
And  what  will  this  poor  Robin  do? 

For  pinching  days  are  near. 


FIFTH   READER.  6S 

3.  The  fireside  for  the  cricket, 

The  wheat  stack  for  the  mouse, 
When  trembling  night  winds  whistle 

And  moan  all  round  the  house. 
The  frosty  ways  like  iron, 

The  branches  plumed  with  snow, — 
Alas!   in  winter  dead  and  dark, 

Where  can  poor  Robin  go? 
Kobin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

O  Robin  dear! 
And  a  crumb  of  bread  for  Robin, 

His  little  heart  to  cheer. 

NOTE.  —  The  Old  World  Robin  here  referred  to  is  quite  differ- 
ent in  appearance  and  habits  from  the  American  Robin.  It  is 
only  about  half  the  size  of  the  latter.  Its  prevailing  color 
above  is  olive  green,  while  the  forehead,  cheeks,  throat,  and 
breast  are  a  light  yellowish  red.  It  does  not  migrate,  but  is 
found  at  all  seasons  throughout  temperate  Europe,  Asia  Minor, 
and  northern  Africa. 


XL    THE  PISH  I  DID  N'T  CATCH. 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier  was  born  near  Haverhill,  Mass.,  in  1807,  and 
died  at  Hampton  Falls,  N.H.,  in  1892.  His  boyhood  was  passed  on  a  farm, 
and  he  never  received  a  classical  education.  In  1829  he  edited  a  news- 
paper in  Boston.  In  the  following  year  he  removed  to  Hartford,  Conn., 
to  assume  a  similar  position.  In  1836  he  edited  an  antislavery  paper 
in  Philadelphia.  In  1840  he  removed  to  Amesbury,  Mass.  Mr.  Whittier's 
parents  were  Friends,  and  he  always  held  to  the  same  faith.  He  wrote 
extensively  both  in  prose  and  verse.  As  a  poet,  he  ranked  among  those 
most  highly  esteemed  and  honored  by  his  countrymen.  "  Snow  Bound  " 
is  one  of  the  longest  and  best  of  his  poems. 

1.  OUR  bachelor  uncle  who  lived  with  us  was  a  quiet, 
genial  man,  much  given  to  hunting  and  fishing ;  and  it  was 
one  of  the  pleasures  of  our  young  life  to  accompany  him 
on  his  expeditions  to  Great  Hill,  Brandy-brow  Woods,  the 


64  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Pond,  and,  best  of  all,  to  the  Country  Brook.  We  were 
quite  willing  to  work  hard  in  the  cornfield  or  the  haying 
lot  to  finish  the  necessary  day's  labor  in  season  for  an 
afternoon  stroll  through  the  woods  and  along  the  brook- 
side. 

2.  I  remember  my  first  fishing  excursion  as  if  it  were 
but  yesterday.     I  have  been  happy  many  times  in  my  life, 
but  never  more  intensely  so  than  when  I  received  that  first 
fishing  pole  from  my  uncle's  hand,  and  trudged  off  with 
him   through   the  woods   and   meadows.      It  was  a  still, 
sweet  day  of  early  summer;   the  long  afternoon  shadows 
of  the  trees  lay  cool  across  our  path;  the  leaves  seemed 
greener,  the  flowers  brighter,  the  birds  merrier,  than  ever 
before. 

3.  My  uncle,  who  knew  by  long  experience  where  were 
the  best  haunts  of  pickerel,  considerately  placed  me  at  the 
most  favorable  point.    I  threw  out  my  line  as  I  had  so 
often  seen  others,  and  waited  anxiously  for  a  bite,  moving 
the  bait  in  rapid  jerks  on  the  surface  of  the  water  in 
imitation  of  the  leap  of   a  frog.      Nothing  came  of   it. 
"  Try  again/'  said  my  uncle.     Suddenly  the  bait  sank  out 
of  sight.      "Now  for  it,"  thought  I;    "here  is  a  fish  at 
last." 

4.  I  made  a  strong  pull,  and  brought  up  a  tangle  of 
weeds.    Again  and  again  I  cast  out  my  line  with  aching 
arms,  and  drew  it  back  empty.     I  looked  at  my  uncle 
appealingly.     "Try  once  more,"  he  said;    "we  fishermen 
must  have  patience." 

5.  Suddenly  something  tugged  at  my  line,  and  swept  off 
with  it  into  deep  water.     Jerking  it  up,  I  saw  a  fine  pick- 
erel wriggling  in  the  sun.     "  Uncle ! "  I  cried,  looking  back 
in  uncontrollable   excitement,  "I've   got  a  fish!"      "Not 
yet,"  said  my  uncle.    As  he  spoke  there  was  a  plash  in 
the  water;   I  caught  the   arrowy  gleam   of  a  scared  fish 
shooting  into  the   middle   of  the  stream,  my  hook  hung 
empty  from  the  line.    I  had  lost  my  prize. 


FIFTH   READER. 


65 


6.  We  are  apt  to  speak  of  the  sorrows  of  childhood  as 
trifles  in  comparison  with  those  of  grown-up  people;  but 
we  may  depend  upon  it  the  young  folks  don't  agree  with 
us.  Our  griefs,  modified  and  restrained  by  reason,  ex- 


66  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

perience,  and  self-respect,  keep  the  proprieties,  and,  if 
possible,  avoid  a  scene;  but  the  sorrow  of  childhood,  un- 
reasoning and  all-absorbing,  is  a  complete  abandonment 
to  the  passion.  The  doll's  nose  is  broken,  and  the  world 
breaks  up  with  it;  the  marble  rolls  out  of  sight,  and  the 
solid  globe  rolls  off  with  the  marble. 

7.  So,  overcome  with  my  great  and  bitter  disappoint- 
ment, I  sat  down  on  the  nearest  hassock,  and  for  a  time 
/1-efused  to  be  comforted,  even  by  my  uncle's  assurance 
that  there  were  more  fish  in  the  brook.    He  refitted  my 
bait,  and,  putting  the  pole  again  in  my  hands,  told  me  to 
try  my  luck  once  more. 

8.  "  But  remember,  boy,"  he  said,  with  his  shrewd  smile, 
"  never  brag  of  catching  a  fish  until  he  is  on  dry  ground. 
I've  seen  older  folks  doing  that  in  more  ways  than  one, 
and  so  making  fools  of  themselves.     It's  no  use  to  boast 
of  anything  until  it 's  done,  nor  then,  either,  for  it  speaks 
for  itself." 

9.  How  often  since  I  have  been  reminded  of  the  fish 
that  I  did  not  catch.    When  I  hear  people  boasting  of  a 
work  as  yet  undone,  and  trying  to  anticipate  the  credit 
which  belongs  only  to  actual  achievement,  I  call  to  mind 
that  scene  by  the  brookside,  and  the  wise  caution  of  my 
uncle  in  that  particular  instance  takes  the  form  of  a  prov- 
erb of  universal  application :  "  NEVER  BRAG  OF  YOUR  FISH 

BEFORE   YOU   CATCH   HIM." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Gen'ial,  cheerful.  3.  Haunts,  places  fre- 
quently visited.  Con-sld'er-ate-ly,  with  due  regard  to  others,  kindly 
thoughtful.  4.  Ap-peal'ing-ly,  as  though  asking  for  aid.  6.  Mod'- 
i-fied,  qualified,  lessened.  Propri'e-tieg,  fixed  customs  or  rules  of 
conduct.  Ab-s6rb'ing,  engaging  the  attention  entirely.  7.  Has'- 
sock,  a  raised  mound  of  turf.  9.  An-tl9'i-pate,  to  take  before  the 
proper  time.  A-chieve'ment,  performance,  deed. 


FIFTH   READER.  67 


XII.    IT  SNOWS. 

Sarah  Josepha  Hale  (6. 1788  ?,  d.  1879)  was  born  in  Newport,  N.H.  Her 
maiden  name  was  Buell.  In  1814  she  married  David  Hale,  an  eminent 
lawyer,  who  died  in  1822.  Left  with  five  children  to  support,  she  turned 
her  attention  to  literature.  In  1828  she  became  editor  of  the  "  Ladies' 
Magazine."  In  1837  this  periodical  was  united  with  "  Godey's  Lady's 
Book,"  of  which  Mrs.  Hale  was  literary  editor  for  more  than  forty  years. 

1.  "  IT  snows ! "  cries  the  Schoolboy,  "  Hurrah ! "  and  his 

shout 

Is  ringing  through  parlor  and  hall, 
While  swift  as  the  wing  of  a  swallow,  he 's  out, 

And  his  playmates  have  answered  his  call; 
It  makes  the  heart  leap  but  to  witness  their  joy ; 

Proud  wealth  has  no  pleasures,  I  trow, 
Like  the  rapture  that  throbs  in  the  pulse  of  the  boy 

As  he  gathers  his  treasures  of  snow; 
Then  lay  not  the  trappings  of  gold  on  thine  heirs, 
While  health  and  the  riches  of  nature  are  theirs. 

2.  "  It  snows ! "  sighs  the  Imbecile,  "  Ah !  "  and  his  breath 

Comes  heavy,  as  clogged  with  a  weight; 
While,  from  the  pale  aspect  of  nature  in  death, 

He  turns  to  the  blaze  of  his  grate; 
And  nearer  and  nearer,  his  soft-cushioned  chair 

Is  wheeled  toward  the  life-giving  flame; 
He  dreads  a  chill  puff  of  the  snow-burdened  air, 

Lest  it  wither  his  delicate  frame ; 
Oh !   small  is  the  pleasure  existence  can  give, 
When  the  fear  we  shall  die  only  proves  that  we  live ! 

3.  "  It  snows ! "  cries  the  Traveler,  "  Ho ! "  and  the  word 

Has  quickened  his  steed's  lagging  pace; 
The  wind  rushes  by,  but  its  howl  is  unheard, 

Unfelt  the  sharp  drift  in  his  face; 
For  bright  through  the  tempest  his  own  home  appeared, 

Ay,  though  leagues  intervened,  he  can  see: 


68  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

There 's  the  clear,  glowing  hearth,  and  the  table  prepared, 

And  his  wife  with  her  babes  at  her  knee; 
Blest  thought!   how  it  lightens  the  grief -laden  hour, 
That  those  we  love  dearest  are  safe  from  its  power! 

4.  "It  snows ! "  cries  the  Belle,  "Dear,  how  lucky ! "  and  turns 

From  her  mirror  to  watch  the  flakes  fall, 
Like  the  first  rose  of  summer,  her  dimpled  cheek  burns, 

While  musing  on  sleigh  ride  and  ball : 
There  are  visions  of  conquests,  of  splendor,  and  mirth, 

Floating  over  each  drear  winter's  day ; 
But  the  tintings  of  Hope,  on  this  storm-beaten  earth, 

Will  melt  like  the  snowflakes  away. 
Turn,  turn  thee  to  Heaven,  fair  maiden,  for  bliss ; 
That  world  has  a  pure  fount  ne'er  opened  in  this. 

5.  "  It  snows ! "  cries  the  Widow,  "  0  God ! "  and  her  sighs 

Have  stifled  the  voice  of  her  prayer; 
Its  burden  ye '11  read  in  her  tear-swollen  eyes, 

On  her  cheek  sunk  with  fasting  and  care. 
'Tis  night,  and  her  fatherless  ask  her  for  bread, 

But  "He  gives  the  young  ravens  their  food," 
And  she  trusts  till  her  dark  hearth  adds  horror  to  dread, 

And  she  lays  on  her  last  chip  of  wood. 
Poor  sufferer!    that  sorrow  thy  God  only  knows; 
'Tis  a  most  bitter  lot  to  be  poor  when  it  snows. 


DEFINITIONS. — 1.  Trow,  to  think,  to  believe.  Trap'pings,  orna- 
ments. 2.  Im'be-9lle,  one  who  is  feeble  either  in  body  or  mind.  3.  In- 
ter-vened',  were  situated  between.  4.  Mus/ing,  thinking  in  an 
absent-minded  way.  Con'quests,  triumphs,  successes.  Tint'ingg, 
slight  colorings,  5.  Sti'fled,  choked,  suppressed. 

REMARK.  —  Avoid  reading  this  piece  in  a  monotonous  style. 
Try  to  express  the  actual  feeling  of  each  quotation;  and  enter 
into  the  descriptions  with  spirit. 


FIFTH    READER. 


XIIL    RESPECT  FOR  THE  SABBATH  REWARDED. 

1.  IN  the  city  of  Bath,  not  many  years  since,  lived  a 
barber  who  made  a  practice  of  following  his  ordinary  occu- 
pation on  the  Lord's  day.    As  he  was  on  the  way  to  his 
morning's  employment,  he  happened  to  look  into  some 
place  of  worship  just  as  the  minister  was  giving  out  his 
text  —  "Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy."    He 
listened  long  enough  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  constantly 
breaking  the  laws  of  God  and  man  by  shaving  and  dressing 
his  customers  on  the  Lord's  day.     He  became  uneasy,  and 
went  with  a  heavy  heart  to  his  Sabbath  task. 

2.  At  length  he  took  courage,  and  opened  his  mind  to 
his  minister,  who  advised  him  to  give  up  Sabbath  work, 
and  worship  God.     He  replied  that  beggary  would  be  the 
consequence.     He  had  a  nourishing  trade,  but  it  would 
almost  all   be  lost.     At  length,   after  many  a  sleepless 
night  spent  in  weeping  and  praying,  he  was  determined 
to  cast  all  his  care  upon  God,  as  the  more  he  reflected,  the 
more  his  duty  became  apparent. 

3.  He  discontinued  his  Sabbath  work,  went  constantly 
and  early  to  the  public  services  of  religion,  and  soon  en- 
joyed that  satisfaction  of  mind  which  is  one  of  the  rewards 
of  doing  our  duty,  and  that  peace  which  the  world  can 
neither  give  nor  take  away.     The  consequences  he  foresaw 
actually  followed.     His  genteel  customers  left  him,  and  he 
was  nicknamed  "  Puritan  "  or  "  Methodist."    He  was  obliged 
to  give  up  his  fashionable  shop,  and,  in  the  course  of  years, 
became  so  reduced  as  to  take  a  cellar  under  the  old  market 
house  and  shave  the  poorer  people. 

4.  One   Saturday  evening,  between   light  and  dark,  a 
stranger  from  one  of  the  coaches,  asking  for  a  barber,  was 
directed  by  the  hostler  to  the  cellar  opposite.     Coming  in 
hastily,  he   requested  to  be  shaved  quickly,  while  they 
changed  horses,  as  he  did  not  like  to  violate  the  Sabbath. 


70  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

This  was  touching  the  barber  on  a  tender  chord.  He  burst 
into  tears ;  asked  the  stranger  to  lend  him  a  half -penny  to 
buy  a  candle,  as  it  was  not  light  enough  to  shave  him  with 
safety.  He  did  so,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  extreme  pov- 
erty to  which  the  poor  man  must  be  reduced. 

5.  When  shaved,  he  said,  "There  must  be  something 
extraordinary  in  your  history,  which  I  have  not  now  time 
to  hear.    Here  is  half  a  crown  for  you.     When  I  return, 
I  will  call  and  investigate  your  case.     What  is  your  name  ?  " 
"William  Reed/'  said  the  astonished  barber.      "William 
Reed?"  echoed  the  stranger:   "William  Reed?   by  your 
dialect  you  are  from  the  West."     "Yes,  sir,  from  Kings- 
ton, near  Taunton."     "William  Reed  from  Kingston,  near 
Taunton?    What  was  your  father's  name?"     "Thomas." 
"Had  he  any  brother?"     "Yes,  sir,  one,  after  whom  I 
was  named;  but  he  went  to  the  Indies,  and,  as  we  never 
heard  from  him,  we  supposed  him  to  be  dead." 

6.  "Come  along,  follow  me,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  am 
going  to  see  a  person  who  says  his  name  is  William  Reed, 
of  Kingston,  near  Taunton.     Come  and  confront  him.     If 
you  prove  to  be  indeed  he  who  you  say  you  are,  I  have 
glorious  news  for  you.     Your  uncle  is  dead,  and  has  left 
an  immense  fortune,  which  I  will  put  you  in  possession  of 
when  all  legal  doubts  are  removed." 

7.  They  went  by  the  coach ;  saw  the  pretended  William 
Reed,  and  proved  him  to  be  an  impostor.     The  stranger, 
who  was  a  pious  attorney,  was  soon  legally  satisfied  of  the 
barber's  identity,  and  told  him  that  he  had  advertised  him 
in  vain.    Providence  had  now  thrown  him  in  his  way  in  a 
most  extraordinary  manner,  and  he  had  great  pleasure  in 
transferring  a  great  many  thousand  pounds  to  a  worthy 
man,  the  rightful  heir  of  the  property.     Thus  was  man's 
extremity  God's  opportunity.      Had  the  poor  barber  pos- 
sessed one  half-penny,  or  even  had  credit  for  a  candle,  he 
might  have  remained  unknown  for  years;  but  he  trusted 
God,  who  never  said,  "  Seek  ye  my  face,"  in  vain. 


FIFTH    READER.  71 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Ap-par'ent,  clear,  plain.  3.  Gen-teel',  fash- 
ionable, elegant.  Re-du^ed',  brought  to  poverty.  4.  Vi'o-late,  to 
break,  to  profane.  5.  In-ves'ti-gate,  to  inquire  into  with  care.  Dl'a- 
leet,  a  local  form  of  speech.  6.  Con-front',  to  face,  to  stand  before. 
7.  At-tor'ney  (pro.  at-tur'ny),  a  lawyer.  I-den'ti-ty,'  the  condition 
of  being  the  same  as  something  claimed.  Trans-ier'ring,  making 
over  the  possession  of.  Ex-trem'i-ty,  greatest  need.  Op-por-tu'- 
ni-ty,  favorable  time. 


XIV.    THE  SANDS  O'  DEE. 


Charles  Kingsley  (6.1819,  d.  1875)  was  born  at  Holne,  Devonshire,  Eng- 
land. He  took  his  bachelor's  degree  at  Cambridge  in  1842,  and  soon  after 
entered  the  Church.  His  writings  are  quite  voluminous,  including  ser- 
mons, lectures,  novels,  fairy  tales,  and  poems,  published  in  book  form, 
besides  numerous  miscellaneous  sermons  and  magazine  articles.  He  was 
an  earnest  worker  for  bettering  the  condition  of  the  working  classes,  and 
this  object  was  the  basis  of  most  of  his  writings.  As  a  lyric  poet  he  has 
gained  a  high  place.  The  "  Saint's  Tragedy  "  and  "  Andromeda  "  are  the 
most  pretentious  of  his  poems,  and  "Alton  Locke"  and  "Hypatia"  are 
his  best  known  novels. 


"L   UO  MARY,  go  and  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
Across  the  sands  o'  Dee !  " 

The  western  wind  was  wild  and  dank  with  foam, 
And  all  alone  went  she. 

2.  The  creeping  tide  came  up  along  the  sand, 
And  o'er  and  o'er  the  sand, 
And  round  and  round  the  sand, 
As  far  as  eye  could  see; 

The  blinding  mist  came  down  and  hid  the  land  — 
And  never  home  came  she. 


72  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

3.  Oh,  is  it  weed,  or  fish,  or  floating  hair?  — 

A  tress  o'  golden  hair, 

O'  drowned  maiden's  hair, 
Above  the  nets  at  sea. 
Was  never  salmon  yet  that  shone  so  fair 
Among  the  stakes  on  Dee. 

4.  They  rowed  her  in  across  the  rolling  foam, 

The  cruel,  crawling  foam, 

The  cruel,  hungry  foam, 
To  her  grave  beside  the  sea; 

But  still  the  boatmen  hear  her  call  the  cattle  home, 
Across  the  sands  o'  Dee. 

NOTES.—  The  Sands  o'  Dee.  The  Dee  is  a  river  of  Scotland, 
noted  for  its  salmon  fisheries. 

O1  is  a  contraction  for  of,  commonly  used  by  the  Scotch. 

REMARK.  —  The  first  three  lines  of  each  stanza  deserve  special 
attention  in  reading.  The  final  words  are  nearly  or  quite  the 
same,  but  the  expression  of  each  line  should  vary.  The  piece 
should  be  read  in  a  low  key  and  with  a  pure,  musical  tone. 


XV.    SELECT  PABAGBAPHS. 

1.  O  GIVE  thanks  unto  the  Lord;    call  upon  his  name; 
make  known  his  deeds  among  the  people.     Sing  unto  him ; 
sing  psalms  unto  him;  talk  ye  of  all  his  wondrous  works. 
Glory  ye  in  his  holy  name;   let  the  heart  of  them  rejoice 
that  seek  the  Lord.     Remember  his  marvelous  works  that 
he  hath  done;    his  wonders,  and  the   judgments   of  his 
mouth. 

2.  0  Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all 
the  earth!    who  hast   set  thy   glory   above   the  heavens. 
When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers ;  the 


FIFTH    READER.  73 

moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordained;  what  is 
man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  and  the  son  of  man, 
that  thou  visitest  him  ?  For  thou  hast  made  him  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory 
and  honor.  Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over  the 
work  of  thy  hands ;  thou  hast  put  all  things  under  his 
feet.  0  Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all 
the  earth ! 

3.  I  will  say  of  the  Lord,  He  is  my  refuge  and  my  for- 
tress, my  God ;  in  him  will  I  trust.     Because  he  hath  set 
his  love  upon  me,  therefore  will  I  deliver  him :  I  will  set 
him  on  high,  because  he  hath  known  my  name.     He  shall 
call  upon  me,  and  I  will  answer  him ;  I  will  be  with  him 
in  trouble ;  I  will  deliver  him,  and  honor  him.     With  long 
life  will  I  satisfy  him,  and  show  him  my  salvation. 

4.  0  come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord,  let  us  heartily 
rejoice  in  the  strength  of  our  salvation.     Let  us  come  before 
his  presence  with  thanksgiving,  and  show  ourselves  glad 
in  him  with  psalms.     For  the  Lord  is  a  great  God,  and 
a  great  King  above  all  gods.     0  worship  the  Lord  in  the 
beauty  of  holiness;  let  the  whole  earth  stand  in  awe  of 
him.     For  he  cometh,  for  he  cometh,  to  judge  the  earth; 
and  with  righteousness  to  judge  the  world,  and  the  people 
with  his  truth. 

5.  Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness, 
and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men !     They 
that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  do  business  in  great 
waters ;  these  see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  wonders 
in  the  deep.     For  he  commandeth,  and  raiseth  the  stormy 
wind,  which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof.     They  mount  up 
to  the  heaven;   they  go  down  again  to  the  depths;   their 
soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble;   they  reel  to  and  fro, 
and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  are  at  their  wit's 
end.     Then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and 
he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses.     He  maketh  the 
storm  a  calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still.     Then 


74  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

are  they  glad  because  they  be  quiet;  so  he  bringeth  them 
unto  their  desired  haven.  Oh  that  men  would  praise  the 
Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men ! 

6.  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall  not  want.  He 
maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures;  he  leadeth  me 
beside  the  still  waters.  He  restoreth  my  soul ;  he  leadeth 
me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness  for  his  name's  sake.  Yea, 
though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art  with  me:  thy  rod  and 
thy  staff,  they  comfort  me.  Thou  preparest  a  table  before 
me  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies ;  thou  anointest  my 
head  with  oil ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Surely,  goodness 
and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life;  and 
I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever. 

—Bible. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Mar'vel-oiis,  wonderful.  2.  Or-dained',  ap- 
pointed, established.  Do-min'ion  (pro.  do-min'yun),  supreme  power. 
5.  Ha  VCD,  d  harbory  a  place  where  ships  can  lie  in  safety. 


XVI.    THE  CORN  SONG. 

HEAP  high  the  farmer's  wintry  hoard! 

Heap  high  the  golden  corn! 
No  richer  gift  has  Autumn  poured 

From  out  her  lavish  horn! 


2.  Let  other  lands,  exulting,  glean 

The  apple  from  the  pine, 
The  orange  from  its  glossy  green, 
The  cluster  from  the  vine; 


FIFTH   READER.  75 

3.  We  better  love  the  hardy  gift 

Our  rugged  vales  bestow, 
To  cheer  us,  when  the  storm  shall  drift 
Our  harvest  fields  with  snow. 

4.  Through  vales  of  grass  and  meads  of  flowers, 

Our  plows  their  furrows  made, 
While  on  the  hills  the  sun  and  showers 
Of  changeful  April  played. 

5.  We  dropped  the  seed  o'er  hill  and  plain, 

Beneath  the  sun  of  May, 
And  frightened  from  our  sprouting  grain 
The  robber  crows  away. 

6.  All  through  the  long,  bright  days  of  June, 

Its  leaves  grew  green  and  fair, 
And  waved  in  hot  midsummer's  noon 
Its  soft  and  yellow  hair. 

7.  And  now,  with  Autumn's  moonlit  eves, 

Its  harvest  time  has  come; 
We  pluck  away  the  frosted  leaves 
And  bear  the  treasure  home. 

8.  There,  richer  than  the  fabled  gift 

Apollo  showered  of  old, 
Fair  hands  the  broken  grain  shall  sift, 
And  knead  its  meal  of  gold. 

9.  Let  vapid  idlers  loll  in  silk, 

Around  their  costly  board; 
Give  us  the  bowl  of  samp  and  milk, 
By  homespun  beauty  poured! 


76  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

10.  Where'er  the  wide  old  kitchen  hearth 

Sends  up  its  smoky  curls, 
Who  will  not  thank  the  kindly  earth 
And  bless  our  farmer  girls! 

11.  Then  shame  on  all  the  proud  and  vain, 

Whose  folly  laughs  to  scorn 

The  blessing  of  our  hardy  grain, 

Our  wealth  of  golden  corn! 

12.  Let  earth  withhold  her  goodly  root; 

Let  mildew  blight  the  rye, 
Give  to  the  worm  the  orchard's  fruit, 
The  wheat  field  to  the  fly: 

13.  But  let  the  good  old  crop  adorn 

The  hills  our  fathers  trod; 
Still  let  us,  for  his  golden  corn, 
Send  up  our  thanks  to  God! 

From   Whittier's  "  Songs  of  Labor." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Hoard,  a  large  quantity  of  anything  laid  up. 
Lav'ish,  profuse.  4.  Meads,  meadows.  9.  Vap'id,  spiritless,  dulL 
Samp,  bruised  corn  cooked  by  boiling. 

NOTE.  —  8.  According  to  the  ancient  fable,  Apollo,  the  god  of 
music,  sowed  the  isle  of  Delos,  his  birthplace,  with  golden  flowers, 
by  the  music  of  his  lyre. 


FIFTH   READER.  77 


XVH.    THE  VENOMOUS  WORM. 

John  Russell  (6. 1793,  d.  1863)  graduated  at  Middlebury  College,  Vt.,  in 
1818.  He  was  at  one  time  editor  of  the  "  Backwoodsman,"  published  at 
Grafton,  111.,  and  later  of  the  "  Louisville  Advocate."  He  was  the  author 
of  many  tales  of  western  adventure  and  of  numerous  essays,  sketches, 
etc.  His  language  is  clear,  chaste,  and  classical ;  his  style  concise,  vigor- 
ous, and  sometimes  highly  ornate. 

1.  WHO  has  not  heard  of  the  rattlesnake  or  copperhead  ? 
An  unexpected  sight  of  either  of  these  reptiles  will  make 
even  the  lords  of  creation  recoil  j  but  there  is  a  species  of 
worm,  found  in  various  parts  of  this  country,  which  conveys 
a  poison  of  a  nature  so  deadly  that,  compared  with  it, 
even  the  venom  of  the  rattlesnake  is  harmless.     To  guard 
our  readers  against  this  foe  of  human  kind  is  the  object 
of  this  lesson. 

2.  This  worm  varies  much  in  size.     It  is  frequently  an 
inch  in  diameter,  but,  as  it  is  rarely  seen  except  when 
coiled,  its  length  can  hardly  be  conjectured.     It  is  of  a 
dull  lead  color,  and  generally  lives  near  a  spring  or  small 
stream  of  water,  and  bites  the  unfortunate  people  who  are 
in  the  habit  of  going  there  to  drink.     The  brute  creation  it 
never  molests.     They  avoid  it  with  the  same  instinct  that 
teaches  the  animals  of  India  to  shun  the  deadly  cobra. 

3.  Several  of  these  reptiles  have  long  infested  our  settle- 
ments, to  the  misery  and  destruction  of  many  of  our  fellow- 
citizens.     I  have,  therefore,  had  frequent  opportunities  of 
being  the  melancholy  spectator  of  the  effects  produced  by 
the  subtile  poison  which  this  worm  infuses. 

4.  The  symptoms  of  its  bite  are  terrible.     The  eyes  of 
the  patient  become  red  and  fiery,  his  tongue  swells  to  an 
immoderate  size,  and  obstructs  his  utterance ;  and  delirium 
of  the  most  horrid  character  quickly  follows.     Sometimes, 
in  his  madness,  he  attempts  the  destruction  of  his  nearest 
friends. 

5.  If  the  sufferer  has  a  family,  his  weeping  wife  and 
helpless  infants  are  not  unfrequently  the  objects  of  his 


T8  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

frantic  fury.  In  a  word,  he  exhibits,  to  the  life,  all  the 
detestable  passions  that  rankle  in  the  bosom  of  a  savage ; 
and  such  is  the  spell  in  which  his  senses  are  locked,  that 
no  sooner  has  the  unhappy  patient  recovered  from  the 
paroxysm  of  insanity  occasioned  by  the  bite,  than  he 
seeks  out  the  destroyer  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being  bitten 
again. 

6.  I  have  seen  a  good  old  father,  his  locks  as  white  as 
snow,  his  step  slow  and  trembling,  beg  in  vain  of  his  only 
son  to  quit  the  lurking  place  of  the  worm.     My  heart  bled 
when  he  turned  away ;  for  I  knew  the  fond  hope  that  his 
son  would  be  the  "  staff  of  his  declining  years,"  had  sup- 
ported  him  through  many  a  sorrow. 

7.  Youths  of  America,  would  you  know  the  name  of 
this  reptile  ?    It  is  called  the  WORM  OF  THE  STILL. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Rep'tile§,  animals  that  crawly  as  snakes,  liz- 
ards, etc.  Re-eoil',  to  start  back,  to  shrink  from.  2.  Co'bra,  a 
highly  venomous  reptile  inhabiting  the  East  Indies.  In-fest'ed, 
troubled,  annoyed.  3.  Sub'tile,  acute,  piercing.  In-fus'es,  intro- 
duces. 4.  Ob-struets',  hinders.  De-lir'i-um,  a  wandering  of  the 
mind.  5.  Ran'kle,  to  rage.  Par'ox-ysm,  a  fit,  a  convulsion. 
7.  WSrm,  a  spiral  metallic  pipe  used  in  distilling  liquors.  Still,  a 
vessel  used  in  distilling  or  making  liquors. 


XVIII.    THE  FESTAL  BOARD. 

1.  COME  to  the  festal  board  to-night, 

For  bright-eyed  beauty  will  be  there, 
Her  coral  lips  in  nectar  steeped, 
And  garlanded  her  hair. 

2.  Come  to  the  festal  board  to-night, 

For  there  the  joyous  laugh  of  youth 
Will  ring  those  silvery  peals,  which  speak 
Of  bosom  pure  and  stainless  truth. 


FIFTB    READER.  71 

3.  Come  to  the  festal  board  to-night, 

For  friendship,  there,  with  stronger  chain. 
Devoted  hearts  already  bound 
For  good  or  ill,  will  bind  again. 

/  went. 

4.  Nature  and  art  their  stores  outpoured; 

Joy  beamed  in  every  kindling  glance; 
Love,  friendship,  youth,  and  beauty  smiled; 
What  could  that  evening's  bliss  enhance? 

We  parted. 

6.  And  years  have  flown;  but  where  are  now 

The  guests  who  round  that  table  met? 
Rises  their  sun  as  gloriously 
As  on  the  banquet's  eve  it  set? 

6.  How  holds  the  chain  which  friendship  wove? 

It  broke;  and  soon  the  hearts  it  bound 
Were  widely  sundered;  and  for  peace, 
Envy  and  strife  and  blood  were  found. 

7.  The  merriest  laugh  which  then  was  heard 

Has  changed  its  tones  to  maniac  screams, 
As  half-quenched  memory  kindles  up 

Glimmerings  of  guilt  in  feverish  dreams. 

8.  And  where  is  she  whose  diamond  eyes 

Golconda's  purest  gems  outshone? 
Whose  roseate  lips  of  Eden  breathed? 
Say,  where  is  she,  the  beauteous  one? 

9.  Beneath  yon  willow's  drooping  shade, 

With  eyes  now  dim,  and  lips  all  pale, 
She  sleeps  in  peace.     Read  on  her  urn, 
"A  broken  heart."    This  tells  her  taid, 


80  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

10.  And  where  is  he,  that  tower  of  strength, 

Whose  fate  with  hers  for  life  was  joined? 
How  beats  his  heart,  once  honor's  throne  ? 
How  high  has  soared  his  daring  mind? 

11.  Go  to  the  dungeon's  gloom  to-night; 

His  wasted  form,  his  aching  head, 
And  all  that  now  remains  of  him, 
Lies,  shuddering,  on  a  felon's  bed. 

12.  Ask  you  of  all  these  woes  the  cause? 

The  festal  board,  the  enticing  bowl, 
More  often  came,  and  reason  fled, 

And  maddened  passions  spurned  control. 

13.  Learn  wisdom,  then.     The  frequent  feast 

Avoid;  for  there,  with  stealthy  tread 
Temptation  walks,  to  lure  you  on, 

Till  death,  at  last,  the  banquet  spread. 

14.  And  shun,  oh  shun,  the  enchanted  cup ! 

Though  now  its  draught  like  joy  appears, 
Ere  long  it  will  be  fanned  by  sighs, 
And  sadly  mixed  with  blood  and  tears. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Fes'tal,  mirthful,  joyous.  Gar'land-ed, 
adorned  with  wreaths  of  flowers.  3.  De-vot'ed,  solemnly  set  apart. 
4.  En-hancX,  increase.  6.  Sun'dered,  separated.  7.  Glim'mer- 
ing§,  faint  views,  glimpses.  8.  Ro'se-ate,  blooming,  rosy.  11.  Fel'on, 
a  public  criminal.  12.  En-ti9'ing,  attracting  to  evil.  Spurned, 
rejected  with  disdain.  13.  Lure,  to  attract,  to  entice.  14.  En- 
chant'ed,  affected  with  enchantment,  bewitched. 

NOTES.  —  8.  Golconda  is  an  ancient  city  and  fortress  of  India, 
formerly  renowned  for  its  diamonds.  They  were  merely  cut 
and  polished  there,  however,  being  generally  brought  from  Par- 
teall,  a  city  farther  south. 


FIFTH    READER.  81 

XIX.    HOW  TO  TELL  BAD   NEWS. 
Mr.  H.  and  the  Steward. 

Mr.  H.  HA  !  Steward,  how  are  you,  my  old  boy  ?  How 
do  things  go  on  at  home  ? 

Steward.   Bad  enough,  your  honor ;   the  magpie  's  dead. 

H.   Poor  Mag !     So  he 's  gone.     How  came  he  to  die  ? 

S.   Overeat  himself,  sir. 

H.  Did  he?  A  greedy  dog;  why,  what  did  he  get  he 
liked  so  well  ? 

S.   Horseflesh,  sir;  he  died  of  eating  horseflesh. 

H.   How  came  he  to  get  so  much  horseflesh? 

S.   All  your  father's  horses,  sir. 

H.   What !   are  they  dead,  too  ? 

S.   Ay,  sir;   they  died  of  overwork. 

H.   And  why  were  they  overworked,  pray  ? 

S.   To  carry  water,  sir. 

H.  To  carry  water !  and  what  were  they  carrying  water 
for? 

S.    Sure,  sir,  to  put  out  the  fire. 

H.   Fire!   what  fire? 

S.   0,  sir,  your  father's  house  is  burned  to  the  ground. 

H.  My  father's  house  burned  down!  and  how  came  it 
set  on  fire  ? 

S.   I  think,  sir,  it  must  have  been  the  torches. 

H.   Torches !   what  torches  ? 

S.   At  your  mother's  funeral. 

H.   My  mother  dead ! 

S.   Ah,  poor  lady!   she  never  looked  up,  after  it. 

E.   After  what  ? 

S.   The  loss  of  your  father. 

H.   My  father  gone,  too? 

S.  Yes,  poor  gentleman !  he  took  to  his  bed  as  soon  as 
he  heard  of  it. 

(6.— 6.) 


82  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

H.   Heard  of  what  ? 

S.   The  bad  news,  sir,  and  please  your  honor. 

H.   What!   more  miseries!   more  bad  news! 

S.  Yes,  sir;  your  bank  has  failed,  and  your  credit  is 
lost,  and  you  are  not  worth  a  shilling  in  the  world.  I 
made  bold,  sir,  to  wait  on  you  about  it,  for  I  thought  you 
would  like  to  hear  the  news. 


XX.    THE  BATTLE  OF  BLENHEIM. 

Robert  Southey  (6. 1774,  d.  1843)  was  born  in  Bristol,  England.  He 
entered  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  in  1793.  In  1804  he  established  himself 
permanently  at  Greta  Hall,  near  Keswick,  Cumberland,  in  the  "  Lake 
Country,"  where  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  society  of  Wordsworth 
and  Coleridge,  other  poets  of  the  "Lake  School."  He  was  appointed 
poet  laureate  in  1813,  and  received  a  pension  of  £300  a  year  from  the  gov- 
ernment in  1835.  Mr.  Southey  was  a  voluminous  writer  in  both  prose 
and  verse.  As  a  poet,  he  can  not  be  placed  in  the  first  rank,  although 
some  of  his  minor  poems  are  very  happy  in  thought  and  expression. 
Among  his  most  noted  poetical  works  are  "  Joan  of  Arc,"  "  Thalaba  the 
Destroyer,"  "  Madoc,"  "  Roderick,"  and  the  "  Curse  of  Kehama." 

1.   IT  was  a  summer  evening, 

Old  Kaspar's  work  was  done, 
And  he,  before  his  cottage  door, 

Was  sitting  in  the  sun; 
And  by  him  sported  on  the  green, 
His  little  grandchild  Wilhelmine. 


2.   She  saw  her  brother  Peterkin 

Roll  something  large  and  round, 
Which  he  beside  the  rivulet, 

In  playing  there,  had  found; 
He  came  to  ask  what  he  had  found, 
That  was  so  large,  and  smooth,  and  round. 


FIFTH    KEADEB.  83 

3.  Old  Kaspar  took  it  from  the  boy, 

Who  stood  expectant  by; 
And  then  the  old  man  shook  his  head, 

And,  with  a  natural  sigh, 
"'Tis  some  poor  fellow's  skull,"  said  he, 
*Who  fell  in  the  great  victory. 

4.  "I  find  them  in  the  garden, 

For  there's  many  hereabout; 
And  often  when  I  go  to  plow, 

The  plowshare  turns  them  out; 
For  many  thousand  men,"  said  he, 
"Were  slain  in  that  great  victory." 

5.  "Now  tell  us  what  'twas  all  about," 

Young  Peterkin  he  cries; 
While  little  Wilhelmine  looks  up 

With  wonder-waiting  eyes; 
"Now  tell  us  all  about  the  war, 
And  what  they  killed  each  other  for." 

6.  "It  was  the  English,"  Kaspar  cried, 

"Who  put  the  French  to  rout, 
But  what  they  killed  each  other  for, 

I  could  not  well  make  out; 
But  everybody  said,"  quoth  he, 
"That  'twas  a  famous  victory: 

7.  "My  father  lived  at  Blenheim  then, 

Yon  little  stream,  hard  by; 
They  burnt  his  dwelling  to  the  ground, 

And  he  was  forced  to  fly; 
So,  with  his  wife  and  child  he  fled, 
Nor  had  he  where  to  rest  his  head. 


84  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

8.   "With  fire  and  sword,  the  country  round 
Was  wasted,  far  and  wide; 

And  many  a  nursing  mother  then, 
And  newborn  baby  died; 

But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 

At  every  famous  victory. 


9.   "They  say  it  was  a  shocking  sight 

After  the  field  was  won; 
For  many  thousand  bodies  here 

Lay  rotting  in  the  sun: 
But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
After  a  famous  victory. 

10.  "Great  praise  the  Duke  of  Marlboro'  won, 

And  our  young  prince,  Eugene." 
"Why,  'twas  a  very  wicked  thing!" 

Said  little  Wilhelmine. 
"Nay,  nay,  my  little  girl!"  quoth  he, 
"It  was  a  famous  victory. 

11.  "And  everybody  praised  the  Duke 

Who  this  great  fight  did  win." 
"But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?" 

Quoth  little  Peterkin. 
"Why,  that  I  can  not  tell,"  said  he, 
"  But  't  was  a  glorious  victory." 

NOTES. —  The  Battle  of  Blenheim,  in  the  "War  of  the  Spanish 
Succession,"  was  fought  August  13,  1704,  near  Blenheim,  in 
Bavaria,  between  the  French  and  Bavarians,  on  one  side,  and 
an  allied  army  under  the  great  English  general,  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  and  Eugene,  Prince  of  Savoy,  on  the  other.  The 
latter  won  a  decisive  victory :  10,000  of  the  defeated  army  were 
•iiJled  and  wounded,  and  13,000  were  taken  prisoner*. 


FIFTH    READER.  85 


XXI.    "I  PITY  THEM." 

1.  A  POOR  man  once  undertook  to  emigrate  from  Castine, 
Me.,  to  Illinois.     When  he  was  attempting  to  cross  a  river 
in  New  York,  his  horse  broke  through  the  rotten  timbers 
of   the   bridge,  and  was  drowned.     He  had   but  this  one 
animal  to  convey  all  his  property  and  his  family  to  his 
new  home. 

2.  His  wife  and  children  were  almost  miraculously  saved 
from  sharing  the  fate  of  the  horse;   but  the  loss  of  this 
poor  animal  was  enough.     By  its  aid  the  family,  it  may  be 
said,  had  lived  and  moved ;  now  they  were  left  helpless  in 
a  land  of  strangers,  without  the  ability  to  go  on  or  return, 
without  money  or  a  single  friend  to  whom  to  appeal.     The 
case  was  a  hard  one. 

3.  There  were  a  great  many  who  "passed  by  on  the 
other   side."     Some   even   laughed  at  the  predicament  in 
which  the   man  was   placed;   but  by  degrees  a  group  of 
people  began  to  collect,  all  of  whom  pitied  him. 

4.  Some  pitied  him  a  great  deal,  and  some  did  not  pity 
him  very  much,  because,  they  said,  he  might  have  known 
better  than  to  try  to  cross  an  unsafe  bridge,  and  should 
have    made    his    horse   swim  the  river.      Pity,   however, 
seemed  rather  to  predominate.     Some  pitied  the  man,  and 
some  the  horse;  all  pitied  the  poor,  sick  mother  and  her 
six  helpless  children. 

5.  Among  this  pitying  party  was  a  rough  son  of  the 
West,  who  knew  what  it  was  to  migrate  some  hundreds  of 
miles   over  new  roads   to   locate   a  destitute  family  on  a 
prairie.     Seeing  the  man's  forlorn  situation,  and  looking 
around  on  the  bystanders,  he  said,  "All  of  you  seem  to 
pity  these  poor  people  very  much,  but  I  would  beg  leave 
to  ask  each  of  you  how  much." 

6.  "There,  stranger,"   continued  he,  holding  up  a  ten- 
dollar  bill,  "  there  is  the  amount  of  my  pity ;  and  if  others 


86 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


will  do  as  I  do,  you  may  soon  get  another  pony.  God 
bless  you."  It  is  needless  to  state  the  effect  that  this 
active  charity  produced.  In  a  short  time  the  happy  emi- 
grant arrived  at  his  destination,  and  he  is  now  a  thriving 
farmer,  and  a  neighbor  to  him  who  was  his  "  friend  in  need, 
and  a  friend  indeed." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Em'i-grate,  to  remove  from  one  country  or 
state  to  another  for  the  purpose  of  residence,  to  migrate.  2.  Mi- 
rae'u-lous-ly,  as  if  by  miracle,  wonderfully.  A-bil'i-ty,  power,  ca- 
pability. 3.  Pre-dle'a-ment,  condition,  plight.  4.  Pre-dom'i-nate, 
to  prevail,  to  rule.  5.  Lo'eate,  to  place.  Des'ti-tute,  needy,  poor. 
6.  Des-ti-na'tion,  end  of  a  journey.  Thriv'ing,  prosperous  through 
industry,  economy,  and  good  management. 


FIFTH   READER.  87 


XXII.    AN  ELEGY  ON  MADAM  BLAIZE. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  (6. 1728,  d.  1774)  was  born  at  Pallas,  or  Pallasmore, 
in  the  parish  of  Forney,  Ireland.  He  received  his  education  at  several 
schools,  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  at  Edinburgh,  and  at  Leyden.  He 
spent  some  time  in  wandering  over  continental  Europe,  often  in  poverty 
and  want.  In  1756  he  became  a  resident  of  London,  where  he  made  the 
acquaintance  of  several  celebrated  men,  among  whom  were  Dr.  Johnson 
and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  His  writings  are  noted  for  their  purity,  grace, 
and  fluency.  His  fame  as  a  poet  is  secured  by  "  The  Traveler,"  and  "  The 
Deserted  Village  ;  "  as  a  dramatist,  by  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer;  "  and  as 
a  novelist,  by  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  His  reckless  extravagance 
always  kept  him  in  financial  difficulty,  and  he  died  heavily  in  debt. 
His  monument  is  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

1.  GOOD  people  all,  with,  one  accord, 

Lament  for  Madam  Blaize, 
Who  never  wanted  a  good  word  — 
From  those  who  spoke  her  praise. 

2.  The  needy  seldom  passed  her  door, 

And  always  found  her  kind; 
She  freely  lent  to  all  the  poor  — 
Who  left  a  pledge  behind. 

3.  She  strove  the  neighborhood  to  please, 

With  manner  wondrous  winning: 
She  never  followed  wicked  ways  — 
Unless  when  she  was  sinning. 

4.  At  church,  in  silks  and  satin  new, 

With  hoop  of  monstrous  size, 
She  never  slumbered  in  her  pew  — 
But  when  she  shut  her  eyes. 

5.  Her  love  was  sought,  I  do  aver, 

By  twenty  beaux  and  more; 
The  king  himself  has  followed  her — 
When  she  has  walked  before. 


ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

6.   But  now,  her  wealth  and  finery  fled, 

Her  hangers-on  cut  short  all, 
Her  doctors  found,  when  she  was  dead — 
Her  last  disorder  mortal. 


7.  Let  us  lament,  in  sorrow  sore; 

For  Kent  Street  well  may  say, 
That,  had  she  lived  a  twelvemonth  more  — 
She  had  not  died  to-day. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ae-eord',  agreement  of  opinion,  consent, 
2.  Pledge,  personal  property  delivered  to  another  as  a  security  for 
a  debt.  6.  Hang'er§-6n,/o#ou?ers.  Mor'tal,  destructive  to  life. 


XXIH.    KING  CHARLES  II.  AND  WILLIAM  PENN. 

King  Charles.  WELL,  friend  William !  I  have  sold  you 
a  noble  province  in  North  America;  but  still,  I  suppose 
you  have  no  thoughts  of  going  thither  yourself  ? 

Penn.  Yes,  I  have,  I  assure  thee,  friend  Charles;  and 
I  am  just  come  to  bid  thee  farewell. 

K.  C.  What!  venture  yourself  among  the  savages  of 
North  America !  Why,  man,  what  security  have  you  that 
you  will  not  be  in  their  war  kettle  in  two  hours  after  setting 
foot  on  their  shores  ? 

P.     The  best  security  in  the  world. 

K.  C.  I  doubt  that,  friend  William ;  I  have  no  idea  of 
any  security  against  those  cannibals  but  in  a  regiment  of 
good  soldiers,  with  their  muskets  and  bayonets.  And  mind, 
I  tell  you  beforehand,  that,  with  all  my  good  will  for  you 
and  your  family,  to  whom  I  am  under  obligations,  I  will 
not  send  a  single  soldier  with  you. 


FIFTH    READER.  8tJ 

P.  I  want  none  of  thy  soldiers,  Charles :  I  depend  on 
something  better  than  thy  soldiers. 

K.  C.     Ah !  what  may  that  be  ? 

P.  Why,  I  depend  upon  themselves;  on  the  working 
of  their  own  hearts;  on  their  notions  of  justice;  on  their 
moral  sense. 

K.  C.  A  fine  thing,  this  same  moral  sense,  no  doubt ; 
but  I  fear  you  will  not  find  much  of  it  among  the  Indians 
of  North  America. 

P.     And  why  not  among  them  as  well  as  others  ? 

K.  C.  Because  if  they  had  possessed  any,  they  would 
not  have  treated  my  subjects  so  barbarously  as  they  have 
done. 

P.  That  is  no  proof  of  the  contrary,  friend  Charles. 
Thy  subjects  were  the  aggressors.  When  thy  subjects  first 
went  to  North  America,  they  found  these  poor  people  the 
fondest  and  kindest  creatures  in  the  world.  Every  day 
they  would  watch  for  them  to  come  ashore,  and  hasten  to 
meet  them,  and  feast  them  on  the  best  fish,  and  venison, 
and  corn,  which  were  all  they  had.  In  return  for  this 
hospitality  of  the  savages,  as  we  call  them,  thy  subjects, 
termed  Christians,  seized  on  their  country  and  rich  hunting 
grounds  for  farms  for  themselves.  Now,  is  it  to  be  won- 
dered at,  that  these  much-injured  people  should  have  been 
driven  to  desperation  by  such  injustice ;  and  that,  burning 
with  revenge,  they  should  have  committed  some  excesses  ? 

K.  C.  Well,  then,  I  hope  you  will  not  complain  when 
they  come  to  treat  you  in  the  same  manner. 

P.     I  am  not  afraid  of  it. 

K.  C.  Ah !  how  will  you  avoid  it  ?  You  mean  to  get 
their  hunting  grounds,  too,  I  suppose  ? 

P.  Yes,  but  not  by  driving  these  poor  people  away 
from  them. 

K.  C.  No,  indeed?  How  then  will  you  get  their 
lands  ? 

P     I  mean  to  buy  their  lands  of  them. 


90  ECLECTIC    SEEIES. 

K.  G.  Buy  their  lands  of  them  ?  Why,  man,  you  have 
already  bought  them  of  me ! 

P.  Yes,  I  know  I  have,  and  at  a  dear  rate,  too ;  but 
I  did  it  only  to  get  thy  good  will,  not  that  I  thought  thou 
hadst  any  right  to  their  lands. 

K.  O.     How,  man  ?  no  right  to  their  lands  ? 

P.  No,  friend  Charles,  no  right ;  no  right  at  all :  what 
right  hast  thou  to  their  lands  ? 

K.  C.  Why,  the  right  of  discovery,  to  be  sure;  the 
right  which  the  Pope  and  all  Christian  kings  have  agreed 
to  give  one  another. 

P.  The  right  of  discovery?  A  strange  kind  of  right, 
indeed.  Now  suppose,  friend  Charles,  that  some  canoe  load 
of  these  Indians,  crossing  the  sea,  a,nd  discovering  this 
island  of  Great  Britain,  were  to  claim  it  as  their  own,  and 
set  it  up  for  sale  over  thy  head,  what  wouldst  thou  think 
of  it? 

K.  C.  Why  —  why  —  why  —  I  must  confess,  I  should 
think  it  a  piece  of  great  impudence  in  them. 

P.  Well,  then,  how  canst  thou,  a  Christian,  and  a 
Christian  prince,  too,  do  that  which  thou  so  utterly  con- 
demnest  in  these  people  whom  thou  callest  savages  ?  And 
suppose,  again,  that  these  Indians,  on  thy  refusal  to  give 
up  thy  island  of  Great  Britain,  were  to  make  war  on  thee, 
and,  having  weapons  more  destructive  than  thine,  were  to 
destroy  many  of  thy  subjects,  and  drive  the  rest  away  — 
wouldst  thou  not  think  it  horribly  cruel  ? 

K.  C.  I  must  say,  friend  William,  that  I  should ;  how 
can  I  say  otherwise  ? 

P.  Well,  then,  how  can  I,  who  call  myself  a  Christian, 
do  what  I  should  abhor  even  in  the  heathen  ?  No.  I  will 
not  do  it.  But  I  will  buy  the  right  of  the  proper  owners, 
even  of  the  Indians  themselves.  By  doing  this,  I  shall 
imitate  God  himself  in  his  justice  and  mercy,  and  thereby 
insure  his  blessing  on  my  colony,  if  I  should  ever  live  to 
plant  one  in  North  America,  _  Mason  L.  Weems. 


FIFTH   READER.  91 

DEFINITIONS.  —  Can'ni-bals,  Tinman  beings  that  eat  human  flesh. 
Reg'i-ment,  a  body  of  troops,  consisting  usually  of  ten  companies. 
Ag-gress'ors,  those  who  flrst  commence  hostilities.  Ven'i-gon  (pro. 
ven'i-zn,  or  ven'zn),  the  flesh  of  deer.  Ex-cess'es,  misdeeds,  evil 
acts.  Con-demn'est  (pro.  kon-dem'est),  censure,  blame. 

NOTES.  —  Charles  II.  was  king  of  England  from  A.D.  1660  to 
1685.  William  Penn  (b.  1644,  d.  1718)  was  a  noted  Englishman 
who  belonged  to  the  sect  of  Friends.  He  came  to  America  in 
1682,  and  founded  the  province  which  is  now  the  state  of  Penn- 
sylvania. He  purchased  the  lands  from  the  Indians,  who  were 
so  impressed  with  the  justice  and  good  will  of  Penn  and  his 
associates,  that  the  Quaker  dress  often  served  as  a  sure  protec- 
tion when  other  settlers  were  trembling  for  their  lives. 


XXIV.    WHAT  I  LIVE  FOB. 

1.  I  LIVE  for  those  who  love  me, 

Whose  hearts  are  kind  and  true; 
For  the  heaven  that  smiles  above  me, 

And  awaits  my  spirit,  too; 
For  all  human  ties  that  bind  me, 
For  the  task  my  God  assigned  me, 
For  the  bright  hopes  left  behind  me, 

And  the  good  that  I  can  do. 

2.  I  live  to  learn  their  story, 

Who  suffered  for  my  sake; 
To  emulate  their  glory, 

And  follow  in  their  wake; 
Bards,  patriots,  martyrs,  sages, 
The  noble  of  all  ages, 
Whose  deeds  crown  History's  pages, 

And  Time's  great  volume  make. 


92  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

3.  I  live  to  hail  that  season, 

By  gifted  minds  foretold, 
When  man  shall  live  by  reason, 

And  not  alone  by  gold; 
When  man  to  man  united, 
And  every  wrong  thing  righted, 
The  whole  world  shall  be  lighted 

As  Eden  was  of  old. 

4.  I  live  for  those  who  love  me, 

For  those  who  know  me  true; 
For  the  heaven  that  smiles  above  me, 

And  awaits  my  spirit,  too; 
For  the  cause  that  needs  assistance, 
For  the  wrongs  that  need  resistance, 
For  the  future  in  the  distance, 

And  the  good  that  I  can  do. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  As-signed'  ( pro.  as-sind'),  allotted,  marked  out. 
2.  Em'-u-late,  to  strive  to  equal  or  excel,  to  rival.  Wake,  the  track 
left  by  a  vessel  in  the  water,  hence,  figuratively,  in  the  train  of. 
Bard,  a  poet.  Mar'tyr,  one  who  sacrifices  what  is  of  great  value  to 
him  for  the  sake  of  principle.  Sage,  a  wis<±  man.  3.  Hail,  to  salute. 


XXV.    THE  RIGHTEOUS  NEVER  FORSAKEN. 

1.  IT  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  widow  of  the  Pine 
Cottage  sat  by  her  blazing  fagots,  with  her  five  tattered 
children  at  her  side,  endeavoring  by  listening  to  the  art- 
lessness  of  their  prattle  to  dissipate  the  heavy  gloom  that 
pressed  upon  her  mind.  For  a  year,  her  own  feeble  hand 
had  provided  for  her  helpless  family,  for  she  had  no  sup- 
porter :  she  thought  of  no  friend  in  all  the  wide,  unfriendly 
world  around. 


FIFTH    READER.  93 

2.  But  that  mysterious  Providence,  the  wisdom  of  whose 
ways  is  above  human  comprehension,  had  visited  her  with 
wasting  sickness,  and  her  little  means  had  become  ex- 
hausted.    It  was  now,  too,  midwinter,  and  the   scow  lay 
heavy  and  deep  through  all  the  surrounding  forests,  while 
storms  still  seemed  gathering  in  the  heavens,  and  the  driv- 
ing wind  roared  amid  the  neighboring  pines,  and  rocked 
her  puny  mansion. 

3.  The  last  herring  smoked  upon  the  coals  before  her; 
it  was  the  only  article  of  food  she  possessed,  and  no  won- 
der her  forlorn,   desolate   state   brought  up  in  her  lone 
bosom  all  the  anxieties  of  a  mother  when  she  looked  upon 
her  children:   and  no  wonder,  forlorn  as  she  was,  if   she 
suffered  the  heart  swellings  of  despair  to  rise,  even  though 
she  knew  that  He,  whose  promise  is  to  the  widow  and  to 
the  orphan,  can  not  forget  his  word. 

4.  Providence  had  many  years  before  taken  from  hei 
her  eldest  son,  who  went  from  his  forest  home  to  try  his 
fortune  on  the  high  seas,  since  which  she  had  heard  no 
tidings  of  him;  and  in  her  latter  time  had,  by  the  hand 
of  death,  deprived  her  of  the  companion  and  staff  of  her 
earthly  pilgrimage,  in  the  person  of  her  husband.     Yet  to 
this  hour  she  had  upborne ;   she  had  not  only  been  able  to 
provide  for  her  little  flock,  but  had  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity of  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  miserable  and 
destitute. 

5.  The  indolent  may  well  bear  with  poverty  while  the 
ability  to  gain  sustenance  remains.     The   individual  who 
has  but  his  own  wants  to  supply  may  suffer  with  fortitude 
the  winter  of  want;    his  affections  are  not  wounded,  his 
heart  is  not  wrung.     The  most  desolate  in  populous  cities 
may  hope,  for  charity  has  not  quite  closed  her  hand  and 
heart,  and  shut  her  eyes  on  misery. 

6.  But  the  industrious  mother  of  helpless  and  depending 
children,  far  from  the  reach  of  human  charity,  has  none  of 
these  to  console  her.     And  such  a  one  was  the  widow  of 


94  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

the  Pine  Cottage ;  but  as  she  bent  over  the  fire,  and  took 
up  the  last  scanty  remnant  of  food  to  spread  before  her 
children,  her  spirits  seemed  to  brighten  up,  as  by  some  sud- 
den and  mysterious  impulse,  and  Cowper's  beautiful  lines 
came  uncalled  across  her  mind : 

"  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace ; 
Behind  a  frowning  Providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face," 

7.  The  smoked  herring  was  scarcely  laid  upon  the  table, 
when  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and  the  loud  barking  of  a 
dog,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  family.    The  children  flew 
to  open  it,  and  a  weary  traveler,  in  tattered  garments  and 
in  apparently  indifferent  health,  entered,  and  begged  a  lodg- 
ing and  a  mouthful  of  food.     Said  he :  "  It  is  now  twenty- 
four  hours  since  I  tasted  bread."     The  widow's  heart  bled 
anew,  as  under  a  fresh  complication  of  distresses ;  for  her 
sympathies  lingered  not  around  her  fireside.     She  hesitated 
not  even  now ;  rest,  and  a  share  of  all  she  had,  she  proffered 
to  the  stranger.     "We   shall  not  be  forsaken,"  said  she, 
"  or  suffer  deeper  for  an  act  of  charity." 

8.  The  traveler  drew  near  the  board,  but  when  he  saw 
the  scanty  fare,  he  raised  his  eyes  toward  heaven  with 
astonishment :  "  And  is  this  all  your  store  ?  "  said  he ;  "  and 
a  share  of  this  do  you  offer  to  one  you  know  not?  then 
never  saw  I  charity  before!     But,  madam,"  said  he,  con- 
tinuing, "  do  you  not  wrong  your  children  by  giving  a  part 
of  your  last  mouthful  to  a  stranger  ?  " 

9.  "Ah,"  said  the  poor  widow —  and  the  tear-drops  gushed 
into  her  eyes  as  she  said  it  —  "I  have  a  boy,  a  darling  son, 
somewhere  on  the  face  of  the  wide  world,  unless  Heaven 
has  taken  him  away,  and  I  only  act  toward  you  as  I  would 
that  others  should  act  toward  him.     God,  who  sent  manna 
from  heaven,  can  provide  for  us  as  he  did  for  Israel ;  and 
how  should  I  this  night  offend  him,  if  my  son  should  be  a 
wanderer,  destitute  as  you,  and  he  should  have  provided 


FIFTH   EVADER.  95 

for  him  a  home,  even  poor  as  this,  were  I  to  turn  you  un- 
relieved away  !  " 

10.  The  widow  ended,  and  the  stranger,  springing  from 
his  seat,  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  "God  indeed  has  pro- 
vided youi  son  a  home,  and  has  given  him  wealth  to  re- 
ward the  goodness  of  his  benefactress  :  my  mother  !  oh,  my 
mother  !  "  It  was  her  long  lost  son,  returned  to  her  bosom 
from  the  Indies.  He  had  chosen  that  disguise  that  he 
might  the  more  completely  surprise  his  family  ;  and  never 
was  surprise  more  perfect,  or  followed  by  a  sweeter  cup  of 


DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Fag'ots,  bundles  of  sticks  used  for  fuel. 
Prat'tle,  trifling  talk.  Dis'si-pate,  to  scatter.  2.  Pu'ny,  small  and 
weak.  4.  Pirgrira-age,  a  journey*  5.  Sus'te-nan9e,  that  which 
supports  life.  For'ti-tude,  resolute  endurance.  7.  In-dif'fer-ent, 
neither  very  good  nor  very  bad.  Com-pli-ea'tion,  entanglement. 
Sym'pa-thies,  compassion.  Proffered,  offered  to  give.  9.  Man'na, 
food  miraculously  provided  by  God  for  the  Israelites. 


XXVI.    ABOU  BEN   ADHEM. 

James  Henry  Leigh  Hunt  (6.  1784,  d.  1859)  was  the  son  of  a  West 
Indian,  who  married  an  American  lady,  and  practiced  law  in  Phila- 
delphia until  the  Revolution ;  being  a  Tory,  he  then  returned  to  England, 
where  Leigh  Hunt  was  born.  The  latter  wrote  many  verses  while  yet  a 
boy,  and  in  1801  his  father  published  a  collection  of  them,  entitled  "Ju- 
venilia." For  many  years  he  was  connected  with  various  newspapers, 
and,  while  editor  of  the  "  Examiner,"  was  imprisoned  for  two  years  for 
writing  disrespectfully  of  the  prince  regent  While  in  prison  he  was 
visited  frequently  by  the  poets  Byron,  Moore,  Lamb,  Shelley,  and  Keats ; 
and  there  wrote  "The  Feast  of  the  Poets,"  "The  Descent  of  Liberty,  a 
Mask,"  and  "The  Story  of  Rimini,"  which  immediately  gave  him  a  rep- 
utation as  a  poet.  His  writings  include  various  translations,  dramas, 
novels,  collections  of  essays,  and  poems. 

1.   ABOU  BEX  ADHEM  (may  his  tribe  increase!) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
Making  it  rich  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold. 


96  ECLECTIC    SEEIES. 

2.  Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold; 
And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
"What  writest  thou?"     The  vision  raised  its  head, 
And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 
Answered, -"The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord/' 

3.  "And  is  mine  one?"  said  Abou.     "Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 

But  cheerly  still;  and  said,  "I  pray  thee,  then, 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men." 

4.  The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished.     The  next  night 
It  came  again,  with  a  great  wakening  light, 

And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed ; 
And,  lo!  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 

NOTE.  —  The  above  selection  is  written  in  imitation  of   an 
oriental  fable. 


XXVII.    LUCY  FORESTER. 

John  Wilson  (&.  1785,  d.  1854),  better  known  as  "  Christopher  North," 
was  a  celebrated  author,  poet,  and  critic,  born  at  Paisley,  Scotland,  and 
educated  at  the  University  of  Glasgow  and  at  Oxford.  In  1808  he  moved 
to  Westmoreland,  England,  where  he  formed  one  of  the  "Lake  School" 
of  poets.  While  at  Oxford  he  gained  a  prize  for  a  poem  on  "  Painting, 
Poetry,  and  Architecture  "  In  1820  he  became  Professor  of  Moral  Philoso- 
phy in  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  which  position  he  retained  until 
1851.  He  gained  his  greatest  reputation  as  the  chief  author  of  "  Noctes 
Ambrosianae,"  essays  contributed  to  Blackwood's  Magazine  between  1822 
and  1825.  Among  his  poems  may  be  mentioned  "The  Isle  of  Palms" 
and  the  "  City  of  the  Plague."  This  selection  is  adapted  from  "  The  For- 
esters," a  tale  of  Scottish  life. 

1.  LUCY  was  only  six  years  old,  but  bold  as  a  fairy ;  she 
had  gone  by  herself  a  thousand  times  about  the  braes,  and 
often  upon  errands  to  houses  two  or  three  miles  distant. 
What  had  her  parents  to  fear?  The  footpaths  were  all 
firm,  and  led  to  no  places  of  danger,  nor  are  infants  them- 
selves incautious  when  alone  in  their  pastimes.  Lucy  went 


FIFTH    READER.  97 

singing  into  the  low  woods,  and  singing  she  reappeared  on 
the  open  hillside.  With  her  small  white  hand  on  the  rail, 
she  glided  along  the  wooden  bridge,  or  tripped  from  stone 
to  stone  across  the  shallow  streamlet. 

2.  The  creature  would  be  away  for  hours,  and  no  fear  be 
felt  on  her  account  by  anyone  at  home ;  whether  she  had 
gone,  with  her  basket  on  her  arm,  to  borrow  some  articles 
of  household  use  from  a  neighbor,  or,  merely  for  her  own 
solitary   delight,  had  wandered   off  to  the  braes   to  play 
among  the  flowers,  coming  back   laden  with  wreaths   and 
garlands. 

3.  The  happy  child  had  been  invited  to  pass  a  whole  day, 
from  morning  to  night,  at  Ladyside  (a  farmhouse  about  two 
miles  off)  with  her  playmates  the  Maynes;   and   she  left 
home  about  an  hour  after  sunrise. 

4.  During  her  absence,  the  house  was  silent  but  happy, 
and,  the  evening  being  now   far   advanced,  Lucy  was   ex- 
pected home  every  minute,  and  Michael,  Agnes,  and  Isabel, 
her  father,  mother,  and  aunt,  went  to  meet  her  on  the  way. 
They  walked  on  and  on,  wondering  a  little,  but  in  no  degree 
alarmed  till  they  reached  Ladyside,  and  heard  the  cheerful 
din  of  the  children  within,  still  rioting  at  the  close  of  the 
holiday.     Jacob  Mayne   came  to  the   door,  but,  on  their 
kindly  asking  why  Lucy  had  not  been  sent  home  before 
daylight  was  over,  he  looked  painfully  surprised,  and  said 
that  she  had  not  been  at  Ladyside. 

5.  Within  two  hours,  a  hundred  persons  were  traversing 
the  hills  in  all   directions,  even  at  a  distance  which  it 
seemed  most  unlikely  that  poor  Lucy  could  have  reached. 
The    shepherds   and  their   dogs,   all   the    night    through, 
searched  every  nook,  every  stony  and  rocky  place,  every 
piece  of  taller  heather,   every  crevice  that  could  conceal 
anything  alive  or  dead,  but  no  Lucy  was  there. 

6.  Her  mother,  who  for  a  while  seemed  inspired  with 
supernatural  strength,  had  joined  in  the  search,  and  with 
a  quaking  heart  looked  into  every  brake,  or  stopped  and 

(6.— 1.) 


98  ECLECTIC    SEEIES. 

listened  to  every  shout  and  halloo  reverberating  among  the 
hills,  intent  to  seize  upon  some  tone  of  recognition  or  dis- 
covery. But  the  moon  sank ;  and  then  the  stars,  whose 
increased  brightness  had  for  a  short  time  supplied  her 
place,  all  faded  away ;  and  then  came  the  gray  dawn  of  the 
morning,  and  then  the  clear  brightness  of  the  day,  —  and 
still  Michael  and  Agnes  were  childless. 

7.  "  She  has  sunk  into  some  mossy  or  miry  place,"  said 
Michael,  to  a  man  near  him,  into  whose  face  he  could  not 
look,  "  a  cruel,  cruel  death  to  one  like  her !     The  earth  on 
which  my  child  walked  has  closed  over  her,  and  we  shall 
never  see  her  more ! " 

8.  At  last,  a  man  who  had  left  the  search,  and  gone  in  a 
direction  toward  the  highroad,  came   running  with   some- 
thing in  his  arms   toward  the   place   where   Michael   and 
others  were   standing  beside   Agnes,  who   lay,  apparently 
exhausted  almost  to  dying,  on  the  sward.     He  approached 
hesitatingly ;  and  Michael  saw  that  he  carried  Lucy's  bon- 
net, clothes,  and  plaid. 

9.  It  was  impossible  not  to  see  some  spots  of  blood  upon 
the  frill  that  the  child  had  worn  around  her  neck.     "  Mur- 
dered !  murdered ! "  was  the  one  word  whispered  or  ejacu- 
lated all  around ;   but  Agnes  heard  it  not ;   for,  worn   out 
by  that  long  night  of  hope   and  despair,  she  had  fallen 
asleep,   and  was,  perhaps,  seeking  her   lost  Lucy  in  her 
dreams. 

10.  Isabel   took   the   clothes,   and,   narrowly   inspecting 
them  with  eye  and  hand,  said,  with  a  fervent  voice  that 
was  heard  even  in  Michael's   despair,  "No,  Lucy  is  yet 
among  the  living.     There  are  no  marks  of  violence  on  the 
garments  of  the   innocent;   no  murderer's  hand  has   been 
here.     These  blood  spots  have  been  put  there  to   deceive. 
Besides,  would  not  the   murderer   have   carried  off  these 
things?     For  what  else   would  he   have   murdered   her? 
But,  oh !  foolish  despair !     What  speak  I  of  ?     For,  wicked  ' 
as  the  world  is  —  ay !  desperately  wicked  —  there  is  not,  on 


FIFTH    READER.  99 

all  the  surface  of  the  wide  earth,  a  hand  that  would 
murder  our  child !  Is  it  not  plain  as  the  sun  in  the 
heaven,  that  Lucy  has  been  stolen  by  some  wretched  gypsy 
beggar?" 

11.  The   crowd   quietly  dispersed,   and  horse   and  foot 
began   to   scour   the   country.     Some   took   the  highroads, 
others    all    the   bypaths,    and    many    the   trackless    hills. 
Now  that  they  were  in  some   measure   relieved  from  the 
horrible  belief  that  the   child  was   dead,  the  worst  other 
calamity  seemed   nothing,  for   hope   brought  her   back  to 
their  arms. 

12.  Agnes  had  been  able  to  walk  home  to  Bracken-Braes, 
and    Michael    and    Isabel    sat   by   her   bedside.     All   her 
strength  was  gone,  and  she  lay  at  the  mercy  of  the  rustle 
of  a  leaf,  or  a  shadow  across  the  window.     Thus  hour  after 
hour  passed,  till  it  was  again  twilight.     "  I  hear  footsteps 
coming  up  the  brae,"  said  Agnes,  who  had  for  some  time 
appeared  to  be   slumbering;    and   in   a  few  moments  the 
voice  of  Jacob  Mayne  was  heard  at  the  outer  door. 

13.  Jacob  wore  a  solemn  expression  of  countenance,  and 
he  seemed,  from  his  looks,  to  bring  no  comfort.     Michael 
stood  up   between  him  and  his  wife,  and  looked  into  his 
heart.     Something   there   seemed  to  be  in  his  face  that 
was   not  miserable.      "If    he   has   heard  nothing  of   my 
child,"  thought   Michael,  "this   man  must  care  little  for 
his  own  fireside."     "Oh,,  speak,  speak,"  said  Agnes;  "yet 
why  need  you  speak  ?     Ail  this  has  been  but  a  vain  belief, 
and  Lucy  is  in  heaven." 

14.  "  Something  like  a  trace  of  her  has  been  discovered ; 
a  woman,  with  a  child  that  did  not  look   like  a  child  of 
hers,  was  last  night  at  Clovenford,  and  left  it  at  the  dawn- 
ing."     "Do   you   hear    that,  my  beloved  Agnes?"   said 
Isabel;  "she  will  have  tramped  away  with  Lucy  up  into 
Ettrick  or  Yarrow;  but  hundreds  of  eyes  will  have  been 
upon  her;  for  these  are  quiet  but  not  solitary  glens;  and 
the  hunt  will   be  over  long  before   she  has  crossed  down 


100  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

upon  Hawick.  I  knew  that  country  in  my  young  days. 
What  say  you,  Mr.  Mayne?  There  is  the  light  of  hope 
in  your  face."  "  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt,  ma'am,  that 
it  was  Lucy.  Everybody  is  sure  of  it.  If  it  was  my  own 
Rachel,  I  should  have  no  fear  as  to  seeing  her  this  blessed 
night/' 

15.  Jacob  Mayne  now  took  a  chair,  and  sat  down,  with 
even  a  smile  upon  his  countenance.     "  I  may  tell  you  now, 
that  Watty  Oliver  knows  it  was  your  child,  for  he  saw  her 
limping  along  after  the  gypsy  at  Galla-Brigg ;  but,  having 
no  suspicion,  he  did  not  take  a  second  look  at  her,  —  but 
one  look  is  sufficient,  and  he  swears  it  was   bonny  Lucy 
Forester." 

16.  Aunt  Isabel,  by  this  time,  had  bread  and  cheese  and 
a  bottle  of  her  own  elder-flower  wine  on  the  table.     "  You 
have  been  a  long  and  hard  journey,  wherever  you  have 
been,  Mr.  Mayne ;   take  some  refreshment ; "  and  Michael 
asked  a  blessing. 

17.  Jacob  saw  that  he  might  now  venture  to  reveal  the 
whole  truth.     "No,  no,  Mrs.  Irving,  I  am  over  happy  to 
eat  or  to  drink.     You  are  all  prepared  for  the  blessing  that 
awaits  you.     Your  child  is  not  far  off ;  and  I  myself,  for  it 
is  I  myself  that  found  her,  will  bring  her  by  the  hand,  and 
restore  her  to  her  parents." 

18.  Agnes  had  raised  herself  up  in  her  bed  at  these 
words,  but  she   sank  gently  back    on  her  pillow;    aunt 
Isabel  was  rooted  to  her  chair;   and  Michael,  as  he   rose 
up,  felt  as   if  the   ground  were  sinking  under  his   feet. 
There  was  a  dead  silence  all  around  the  house  for  a  short 
space,  and  then  the  sound  of  many  voices,  which  again 
by  degrees  subsided.      The  eyes  of  all  then  looked,  and 
yet  feared  to  look,  toward  the  door. 

19.  Jacob  Mayne  was  not  so  good  as  his  word,  for  he 
did  not  bring  Lucy  by  the  hand  to  restore   her  to  her 
parents;  but  dressed  again  in  her  own  bonnet  and  gown, 
and  her  own  plaid,  in  rushed  their  own  child,  by  herself, 


FIFTH    READER.  101 

with  tears  and  sobs  of  joy,  and  her  father  laid  her  within 
her  mother's  bosom. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Brae,  shelving  ground,  a  declivity  or  slope  of  a 
hill.  Pas'  times,  sports,  plays.  4.  Ri'ot-ing,  romping.  •  5.  Heath'er, 
an  evergreen  shrub  bearing  beautiful  flowers,  used  in  Great  Britain 
for  making  brooms,  etc.  6.  In-spired',  animated,  enlivened.  Su-per- 
nat'u-ral,  more  than  human.  Brake,  a  place  overgrown  with  shrubs 
and  brambles.  Re-ver'ber-at-iDg,  resounding,  echoing.  In-tent', 
having  the  mind  closely  fixed.  8.  Plaid  (pro.  plad),  a  striped  or 
checked  overgarment  worn  by  the  Scotch.  9.  E-jac'u-lat-ed,  ex- 
claimed. 11.  Seour,  to  pass  over  swiftly  and  thoroughly. 

NOTE.  —  The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  Scotland,  and  many 
of  the  words  employed,  such  as  brae,  brake,  heather,  and  plaid, 
are  but  little  used  except  in  that  country. 


XXVIII.    THE  REAPER  AND  THE  FLOWERS. 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  (b.  1807,  d.  1882),  the  son  of  Hon. 
Stephen  Longfellow,  an  eminent  lawyer,  was  born  in  Portland,  Maine. 
He  graduated  at  Bowdoin  College  in  1825.  After  spending  four  years  in 
Europe,  he  was  Professor  of  Modern  Languages  and  Literature  at  Bow- 
doin till  1835,  when  he  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of  Modern  Languages 
and  Belles-lettres  in  Harvard  University.  He  resigned  his  professor- 
ship in  1854,  after  which  time  he  resided  in  Cambridge,  Mass.  Long- 
fellow wrote  many  original  works  both  in  verse  and  prose,  and  made 
several  translations,  the  most  famous  of  which  is  that  of  the  works 
of  Dante.  His  poetry  is  always  chaste  and  elegant,  showing  traces  of 
careful  scholarship  in  every  line.  The  numerous  and  varied  editions  of 
his  poems  are  evidences  of  their  popularity. 


1.   THERE  is  a  Reaper  whose  name  is  Death, 

And,  with  his  sickle  keen, 
He  reaps  the  bearded  grain  at  a  breath, 
And  the  flowers  that  grow  between. 


102  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

2.   "Shall  I  have  naught  that  is  fair?"  saith  he; 

"Have  naught  but  the  bearded  grain? 
Though  the  breath  of  these  flowers  is  sweet  to  me, 
I  will  give  them  all  back  again." 


3.  He  gazed  at  the  flowers  with  tearful  eyes, 

He  kissed  their  drooping  leaves; 
It  was  for  the  Lord  of  Paradise 
He  bound  them  in  his  sheaves. 

4.  "My  Lord  has  need  of  these  flowerets  gay," 

The  Reaper  said,  and  smiled; 
"Dear  tokens  of  the  earth  are  they, 
Where  he  was  once  a  child. 


5.   "They  shall  all  bloom  in  the  fields  of  light, 

Transplanted  by  my  care, 
And  saints,  upon  their  garments  white, 
These  sacred  blossoms  wear." 


6.  And  the  mother  gave  in  tears  and  pain 

The  flowers  she  most  did  love; 
She  knew  she  should  find  them  all  again 
In  the  fields  of  light  above. 


7.  0,  not  in  cruelty,  not  in  wrath, 

The  Reaper  came  that  day, 
*T  was  an  angel  visited  the  green  earth, 
And  took  the  flowers  away. 

DEFINITIONS.  — 3.  Sheaveg,  bundles  of  grain.  4.  To'ken  (pro. 
16'kn),  a  souvenir,  that  which  is  to  recall  some  person,  thing,  or  event. 
6.  Trans-plant'ed,  removed,  and  planted  in  another  place. 


FIFTH   READER.  103 


XXIX.    THE  TOWN  PUMP. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (6. 1804,  d.  1864)  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.  He 
graduated  at  Bowdoin  College  in  1825.  His  earliest  literary  productions, 
written  for  periodicals,  were  published  in  two  volumes —  the  first  in  1837j 
the  second  in  1842  —  under  the  title  of  "  Twice-Told  Tales."  •  "  Mosses  from 
an  Old  Manse,"  another  series  of  tales  and  sketches,  was  published  in 
1845.  From  1846  to  1850  he  was  surveyor  of  the  port  of  Salem.  In  1852  he 
was  appointed  United  States  consul  for  Liverpool.  After  holding  this 
office  four  years,  he  traveled  for  some  time  on  the  continent.  His  most 
popular  works  are  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  a  work  showing  a  deep  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature,  "  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,"  "  The  Blithedale 
Romance,"  and  "The  Marble  Faun,"  an  Italian  romance,  which  is  re- 
garded by  many  as  the  best  of  his  works.  Being  of  a  modest  and  retiring 
lisposition,  Mr.  Hawthorne  avoided  publicity.  Most  of  his  works  are 
highly  imaginative.  As  a  prose  writer  he  has  no  superior  among  Ameri- 
can authors.  He  died  at  Plymouth,  N.  H.,  while  on  a  visit  to  the  White 
Mountains  for  his  health. 

[SCEXE.  —  The  corner  of  two  principal  streets.  The  Toivn 
Pump  talking  through  its  nose.~j 

1.  NOON,   by   the    north    clock!     Noon,   by   the    east! 
High  noon,  too,  by  those  hot  sunbeams  which  fall,  scarcely 
aslope,  upon  my  head,  and  almost  make  the  water  bubble 
and  smoke  in  the  trough  under  my  nose.     Truly,  we  public 
characters  have  a  tough  time  of  it!     And  among  all  the 
town  officers,  chosen  at  the  yearly  meeting,  where  is  he 
that  sustains,  for  a  single  year,  the  burden  of  such  mani- 
fold duties  as  are  imposed,  in  perpetuity,  upon  the  Town 
Pump  ? 

2.  The  title   of  town  treasurer  is   rightfully  mine,  as 
guardian  of  the  best  treasure  the  town  has.     The  over- 
seers of  the  poor  ought  to  make  me  their  chairman,  since 
I  provide  bountifully  for  the  pauper,  without  expense  to 
him  that  pays  taxes.     I  am  at  the  head  of  the  fire  depart- 
ment, and  one  of  the  physicians  of  the  board  of  health. 
As  a  keeper  of  the  peace,  all  water  drinkers  confess  me 
equal  to  the  constable.     I  perform  some  of  the  duties  of 
the  town  clerk,  by  promulgating  public  notices,  when  they 
are  pasted  on  my  front. 


104  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

3.  To  speak  within  bounds,  I  am  chief  person  of  the 
municipality,  and  exhibit,  moreover,  an  admirable  pattern 
to  my  brother  officers  by  the  cool,  steady,  upright,  down- 
right, and  impartial   discharge   of  my  business,  and  the 
constancy  with  which  I  stand  to   my  post.     Summer  or 
winter,  nobody  seeks  me  in  vain;  for  all  day  long  I  arn 
seen  at  the  busiest  corner,  just  above  the  market,  stretch- 
ing out  my  arms  to  rich  and  poor  alike ;  and  at  night  I 
hold  a  lantern  over  my  head,  to  show  where  I  am,  and  to 
keep  people  out  of  the  gutters. 

4.  At    this    sultry   noontide,    I    am    cupbearer    to    the 
parched   populace,   for   whose   benefit   an   iron    goblet    is 
chained  to  my  waist.     Like  a  dramseller  on  the   public 
square,  on  a  muster  day,  I  cry  aloud  to  all  and  sundry, 
in  my  plainest  accents,   and  at  the  very  tiptop   of   my 
voice.     "  Here  it  is,  gentlemen !     Here  is  the  good  liquor ! 
Walk  up,  walk  up,  gentlemen,  walk  up,  walk  up !     Here 
is  the  superior   stuff!     Here  is  the  unadulterated  ale  of 
father    Adam !    better    than    Cognac,    Hollands,   Jamaica, 
strong  beer,  or  wine  of  any  price ;  here  it  is,  by  the  hogs- 
head or  the  single  glass,  and  not  a  cent  to  pay.     Walk 
up,  gentlemen,  walk  up  and  help  yourselves  ! " 

5.  It  were  a  pity  if  all  this  outcry  should  draw  no  cus- 
tomers.    Here  they  come.     A  hot  day,  gentlemen.     Quaff 
and  away  again,  so  as  to  keep  yourselves  in  a  nice,  cool 
sweat.     You,  my  friend,  will  need  another  cupful  to  wash 
the  dust  out  of  your  throat,  if  it  be  as  thick  there  as  it  is 
on  your  cowhide  shoes.     I  see  that  you  have  trudged  half 
a  score  of  miles  to-day,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  have  passed 
by  the  taverns,  and  stopped  at  the  running  brooks  and 
well    curbs.      Otherwise,    betwixt    heat  without    and   fire 
within,  you  would  have  been  burnt  to  a  cinder,  or  melted 
down  to  nothing  at  all  —  in  the  fashion  of  a  jellyfish. 

6.  Drink,  and  make  room  for  that  other  fellow,  who  seeks 
my  aid  to  quench  the  fiery  fever  of  last  night's  potations, 
which  he  drained  from  no  cup  of  mine.     Welcome,  most 


FIFTH    READER. 


105 


rubicund  sir!  You  and  I  have  been  strangers  hitherto; 
nor,  to  confess  the  truth,  will  my  nose  be  anxious  for  a 
closer  intimacy,  till  the  fumes  of  your  breath  be  a  little 
less  potent. 


106  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

7.  Mercy  on  you,  man!     The  water  absolutely  hisses 
down   your   red-hot    gullet,   and  is   converted   quite   into 
steam  in  the  miniature  Tophet,  which  you  mistake  for  a 
stomach.    Fill  again,  and  tell  me,  on  the  word  of  an  hon- 
est toper,  did  you  ever,  in  cellar,  tavern,  or  any  other  kind 
of  dramshop,  spend  the  price  of  your  children's  food  for 
a  swig  half  so  delicious  ?    Now,  for  the  first  time  these  ten 
years,  you  know  the  flavor  of  cold  water.     Good-by;  and 
whenever  you  are  thirsty,  recollect  that  I  keep  a  constant 
supply  at  the  old  stand. 

8.  Who  next?     Oh,  my  little  friend,  you  are  just  let 
loose  from  school,  and  come  hither  to  scrub  your  bloom- 
ing face,  and  drown  the  memory  of  certain  taps  of  the 
ferule,  and  other  schoolboy  troubles,  in  a  draught  from 
the  Town  Pump.     Take  it,  pure  as  the  current  of  your 
young  life ;  take  it,  and  may  your  heart  and  tongue  never 
be  scorched  with  a  fiercer  thirst  than  now. 

9.  There,  my  dear  child,  put  down  the  cup,  and  yield 
your  place  to  this  elderly  gentleman,  who  treads  so  ten- 
derly over  the  paving  stones  that  I  suspect  he  is  afraid 
of  breaking  them.     What!  he  limps  by  without  so  much 
as  thanking  me,  as  if  my  hospitable  offers  were  meant  only 
for  people  who  have  no  wine  cellars. 

10.  Well,  well,  sir,  no  harm  done,  I  hope!     Go,  draw 
the  cork,  tip  the  decanter ;  but  when  your  great  toe  shal3 
set  you  a-roarmg,  it  will  be  no  affair  of  mine.     If  gentle- 
men love  the  pleasant  titillation  of  the  gout,  it  is  all  one 
to  the  Town  Pump.     This  thirsty  dog,  with  his  red  tongue 
lolling  out,  does  not  scorn  my  hospitality,  but  stands  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  laps  eagerly  out  of  the  trough.     See 
how  lightly  he   capers    away    again!     Jowler,   did   your 
worship  ever  have  the  gout  ? 

11.  Your  pardon,  good  people!     I  must  interrupt  my 
stream  of  eloquence,  and  spout  forth  a  stream  of  water 
to  replenish  the  trough  for  this  teamster  and  his  two  yoke 
of  oxen,  who  have  come  all  the  way  from  Staunton,  or 


FIFTH    READER.  107 

somewhere  along  that  way.  No  part  of  my  business  gives 
me  more  pleasure  than  the  watering  of  cattle.  Look !  how 
rapidly  they  lower  the  watermark  on  the  sides  of  the 
trough,  till  their  capacious  stomachs  are  moistened  with 
a  gallon  or  two  apiece,  and  they  can  afford  time  to  breathe, 
with  sighs  of  calm  enjoyment !  Now  they  roll  their  quiet 
eyes  around  the  brim  of  their  monstrous  drinking  vessel. 
An  ox  is  your  true  toper. 

12.  I  hold  myself  the  grand  reformer  of  the  age.     From 
my  spout,  and  such  spouts  as  mine,  must  flow  the  stream 
that  shall  cleanse  our  earth  of  a  vast  portion  of  its  crime 
and  anguish,  which  have  gushed  from  the  fiery  fountains 
of  the  still.     In  this  mighty  enterprise,  the  cow  shall  be 
my  great  confederate.     Milk  and  water! 

13.  Ahem!    Dry  work  this   speechifying,  especially  to 
all  unpracticed  orators.     I  never  conceived  till  now  what 
toil  the  temperance  lecturers  undergo  for  my  sake.     Do, 
some  kind  Christian,  pump  a  stroke  or  two,  just  to   wet 
my  whistle.     Thank  you,  sir.     But  to  proceed. 

14.  The  Town  Pump  and  the  Cow !     Such  is  the  glorious 
partnership  that  shall  finally  monopolize  the  whole  business 
of  quenching  thirst.     Blessed  consummation!     Then  Pov- 
erty shall  pass  away  from  the  land,  finding  no  hovel  so 
wretched  where  her  squalid  form  may  shelter  itself.     Then 
Disease,  for  lack  of  other  victims,  shall  gnaw  his  own  heart 
and  die.     Then  Sin,  if  she  do  not  die,  shall  lose  half  her 
strength. 

15.  Then  there  will  be  no  war  of  households.     The  hus- 
band and  the  wife,  drinking  deep  of  peaceful  joy,  a  calm 
bliss    of    temperate    affections,  shall  pass  hand  in  hand 
through  life,  and  lie  down,  not  reluctantly,  at  its  protracted 
close.     To  them  the  past  will  be  no  turmoil  of  mad  dreams, 
nor  the  future  an  eternity  of  such  moments  as  follow  the 
delirium  of  a  drunkard.      Their  dead  faces   shall   express 
what  their  spirits  were,  and  are  to  be,  by  a  lingering  smile 
of  memory  and  hope. 


108  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

16.  Drink,  then,  and  be  refreshed!  The  water  is  as 
pure  and  cold  as  when  it  slaked  the  thirst  of  the  red 
hunter,  and  flowed  beneath  the  aged  bough,  though  now 
this  gem  of  the  wilderness  is  treasured  under  these  hot 
stones,  where  no  shadow  falls,  but  from  the  brick  build- 
ings. But,  still  is  this  fountain  the  source  of  health, 
peace,  and  happiness,  and  I  behold,  with  certainty  and 
joy,  the  approach  of  the  period  when  the  virtues  of  cold 
water,  too  little  valued  since  our  father's  days,  will  be 
fully  appreciated  and  recognized  by  all. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Per-pe-tu'i-ty,  endless  duration.  2.  Pro-mul'- 
gat-ing,  announcing.  3.  Mu-nfy-i-paTi-ty,  a  division  of  a  country 
or  of  a  city.  4.  Mus'ter  day,  parade  day.  Sun' dry,  several.  Un- 
a-duTter-at-ed,  pure,  unmixed.  Co'gnae  (pro.  Kon'yak),  a  French 
brandy.  6.  Po-ta'tions,  drinkings.  Ru'bi-eund,  inclining  to  red- 
ness. 7.  To'phet,  the  infernal  regions.  10.  Tit-il4a'tion,  tickling. 
11.  Re-plen'ish,  to  fill  again.  14.  Mo-nop'o-llze,  to  obtain  the 
whole.  Con-sum-ma' tion,  completion,  termination.  Squal  id,  jilthy* 
15.  Pro-traet'ed,  delayed.  16.  Slaked,  quenched. 


XXX.    GOOD  NIGHT. 

Samuel  Griswold  Goodrich  (6. 1793,  d.  1860)  was  born  in  Ridgefield, 
Conn.  Mr.  Goodrich  is  best  known  as  "Peter  Parley,"  under  which 
assumed  name  he  commenced  the  publication  of  a  series  of  juvenile 
works  about  1827.  He  edited  "  Parley's  Magazine  "  from  1841  to  1854.  He 
was  appointed  United  States  consul  for  Paris  in  1848,  and  held  that  office 
four  years.  He  was  a  voluminous  writer,  and  his  works  are  interesting 
and  popular.  His  "  Recollections  of  a  Lifetime"  was  published  in  1857, 
and  "  Peter  Parley's  Own  Story  "  the  year  after  his  death. 

1.   THE  sun  has  sunk  behind  the  hills, 

The  shadows  o'er  the  landscape  creep; 
A  drowsy  sound  the  woodland  fills, 
As  nature  folds  her  arms  to  sleep: 

Good  night  —  good  night. 


FIFTH   HEADER. 

2.  The  chattering  jay  has  ceased  his  din, 

The  noisy  robin  sings  no  more; 
The  crow,  his  mountain  haunt  within, 
Dreams  'mid  the  forest's  surly  roar: 

Good  night — good  night. 

3.  The  sunlit  cloud  floats  dim  and  pale; 

The  dew  is  falling  soft  and  still, 
The  mist  hangs  trembling  o'er  the  vale, 
And  silence  broods  o'er  yonder  mill: 

Good  night  —  good  night. 

4.  The  rose,  so  ruddy  in  the  light, 

Bends  on  its  stem  all  rayless  now; 
And  by  its  side  a  lily  white, 
A  sister  shadow,  seems  to  bow: 

Good  night  —  good  night. 


109 


5.   The  bat  may  wheel  on  silent  wing, 

The  fox  his  guilty  vigils  keep, 
The  boding  owl  his  dirges  sing; 
But  love  and  innocence  will  sleep: 

Good  night  —  good  night. 


HO  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

XXXI.    AN  OLD-FASHIONED   GIRL. 

Louisa  May  Alcott  (&.  1833,  d.  1888)  was  born  at  Germantown,  Pa.r 
of  New  England  parentage.  Her  parents  afterwards  returned  to  New 
England,  and  most  of  her  life  was  spent  in  Concord,  Mass.  During  the 
Civil  War  she  went  to  Washington  and  nursed  the  wounded  and  sick 
until  her  own  health  gave  way.  As  a  child  she  used  to  write  stories  for 
the  amusement  of  her  playmates,  and  in  1857  published  her  first  book, 
"  Flower  Fables."  Her  first  novel,  "  Moods,"  appeared  in  1865.  "  Little 
Women,"  published  in  1868,  is  a  picture  of  her  own  home  life.  "  An  Old- 
Fashioned  Girl,"  from  which  this  extract  is  adapted,  was  published  in 
1870,  and  is  one  of  her  most  popular  books. 

1.  POLLY  hoped  the  "dreadful  boy77  (Tom)  would  not 
be  present ;  but  he  was,  and  stared  at  her  all  dinner  time 
in  a  most  trying  manner. 

2.  Mr.  Shaw,  a  busy-looking  gentleman,  said,  "How  do 
you  do,  my  dear?     Hope  you'll  enjoy  yourself; "  and  then 
appeared  to  forget  her  entirely.     Mrs.  Shaw,  a  pale,  nerv- 
ous woman,  greeted  her  little  guest  kindly,  and  took  care 
that  she  wanted  for  nothing. 

3.  Madam  Shaw,  a  quiet  old  lady,  with  an  imposing  cap, 
exclaimed,  on  seeing  Polly,  "Bless  my  heart!    the  image 
of  her  mother  —  a  sweet  woman  —  how  is   she,   dear?" 
and  kept  peering  at  the  newcomer  over  her   glasses   till, 
between  Madam  and  Tom,  poor  Polly  lost  her  appetite. 

4.  Her  cousin  Fanny  chatted  like  a  magpie,  and  little 
Maud  fidgeted,  till  Tom  proposed  to  put  her  under  the 
big   dish   cover,  which   produced   such   an   explosion  that 
the  young  lady  was  borne  screaming  away  by  the   much- 
enduring  nurse. 

5.  It  was,  altogether,  an  uncomfortable  dinner,  and  Polly 
was  very  glad  when  it  was  over.      They   all   went   about 
their  own  affairs ;  and,  after  doing  the  honors  of  the  house, 
Fan  was  called  to  the  dressmaker,  leaving  Polly  to  amuse 
herself  in  the  great  drawing-room. 

6.  Polly  was  glad  to  be  alone  for  a  few  minutes;  and, 
having  examined  all  the  pretty  things  about  her,  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  over  the  soft,  flowery  carpet,  humming 


FIFTH   READER.  Ill 

to  herself,  as  the  daylight  faded,  and  only  the  ruddy  glow 
of  the  fire  filled  the  room. 

7.  Presently  Madam  came  slowly  in,  and  sat  down  in  her 
armchair,  saying,  "That's  a  fine  old  tune;  sing  it  to  me, 
my  dear.     I  have  n't  heard  it  this  many  a  day." 

8.  Polly  did  n't  like  to  sing  before  strangers,  for  she  had 
no  teaching  but  such  as  her  busy  mother  could  give  her ; 
but  she  had  been  taught  the  utmost  respect  for  old  people, 
and,  having  no  reason  for  refusing,  she  directly  went  to  the 
piano  and  did  as  she  was  bid. 

9.  "That's  the  sort  of  music  it's  a  pleasure  to  hear. 
Sing  some  more,  dear,"  said  Madam,  in  her  gentle  way, 
when  she  had  done. 

10.  Pleased  with  this  praise,  Polly  sang  away  in  a  fresh 
little  voice  that  went  straight  to  the  listener's  heart  and 
nestled  there.     The  sweet  old  tunes  that  one  is  never  tired 
of  were  all  Polly's  store.     The  more  she  sung,  the  better 
she  did  it;  and  when  she  wound  up  with  "A   Health  to 
King  Charlie,"  the  room  quite  rung  with  the  stirring  music 
made  by  the  big  piano  and  the  little  maid. 

11.  "  That 's  a  jolly  tune !     Sing  it  again,  please,"  cried 
Tom's  voice ;  and  there  was  Tom's  red  head  bobbing  up  over 
the  high  back  of  the  chair  where  he  had  hidden  himself. 

12.  It  gave  Polly  quite  a  turn,  for  she  thought  no  one 
was  hearing  her  but  the  old  lady  dozing  by  the  fire.     "I 
can't  sing  any  more;   I'm  tired,"  she   said,   and  walked 
away  to  Madam  in  the  other  room.     The  red  head  vanished 
like  a  meteor,  for  Polly's  tone  had  been  decidedly  cool. 

13.  The  old  lady  put  out  her  hand,  and,  drawing  Polly 
to  her  knee,  looked  into  her  face  with  such  kind  eyes  that 
Polly  forgot  the  impressive  cap,  and  smiled  at  her  confi- 
dently;  for  she  saw  that  her  simple  music  had  pleased 
her  listener,  and  she  felt  glad  to  know  it. 

14.  "  You  mus'n't  mind  my  staring,  dear,"  said  Madam, 
softly  pinching  her  rosy  cheek,  "  I  haven 't  seen  a  little  girl 
for  so  long,  it  does  my  old  eyes  good  to  look  at  you." 


112  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Polly  thought  that  a  very  odd  speech,  and  couldn't  help 
saying,  "  Are  n't  Fan  and  Maud  little  girls,  too  ?  " 

15.  "Oh,  dear,  no!   not  what  I   call  little   girls.     Fan 
has  been  a  young  lady  this   two  years,  and  Maud  is  a 
spoiled  baby.     Your  mother  's  a  very  sensible  woman,  my 
child." 

16.  "What  a  queer  old  lady!"  thought  Polly;  but  she 
said  "  Yes  'm,"  respectfully,  and  looked  at  the  fire.     "  You 
don't  understand  what  I  mean,  do  you  ?  "  asked  Madam, 
still  holding  her  by  the  chin.     "No'm;  not  quite." 

17.  "  Well,  dear,  I  '11  tell  you.     In  my  day,  children  of 
fourteen  and  fifteen  didn't  dress   in  the   height  of  the 
fashion ;  go  to  parties  as  nearly  like  those  of  grown  people 
as  it 's  possible  to  make  them ;  lead  idle,  giddy,  unhealthy 
lives,  and  get  blast  at  twenty.     We  were  little  folks  till 
eighteen  or  so;  worked  and  studied,  dressed  and  played, 
like  children;   honored  our  parents;   and  our  days  were 
much  longer  in  the  land  than  now,  it  seems  to  me." 

18.  The  old  lady  appeared  to  forget  Polly,  at  the  end  of 
her  speech ;  for  she  sat  patting  the  plump  little  hand  that 
lay  in  her  own,  and  looking  up  at  a  faded  picture  of  an 
old  gentleman  with  a  ruffled  shirt  and  a  queue.     "  Was  he 
your  father,  Madam  ?  " 

19.  "Yes,  my  dear;  my  honored  father.     I  did  up  his 
frills  to  the  day  of  his  death ;  and  the  first  money  I  ever 
earned,  was  five  dollars  which  he  offered  as  a  prize  to  which- 
ever of  his  six  girls  would  lay  the  handsomest  darn  in  his 
silk  stockings." 

20.  "How  proud  you  must  have   been!"  cried  Polly, 
leaning  on  the  old  lady's  knee  with  an  interested  face. 

21.  "  Yes ;  and  we  all  learned  to  make  bread,  and  cook, 
and  wore  little  chintz  gowns,  and  were  as  gay  and  hearty 
as  kittens.     All  lived  to  be  grandmothers;   and  I'm  the 
last — seventy  next  birthday,  my  dear,  and  not  worn  out 
yet ;  though  daughter  Shaw  is  an  invalid  at  forty." 

22.  "That's  the  way  I  was  brought  up,  and  that's  why 


FIFTH   READER.  113 

Fan  calls  me  old-fashioned,  I  suppose.     Tell  more  about 
your  papa,  please;  I  like  it/'  said  Polly. 

23.  "  Say, '  father.'  We  never  called  him  papa ;  and  if  one 
of  my  brothers  had  addressed  him  as  '  governor/  as  boys  now 
do,  I  really  think  he  'd  have  him  cut  off  with-  a  shilling." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  3.  Im-pos'ing,  having  the  power  of  exciting  atten- 
tion and  feeling,  impressive.  4.  Magpie,  a  noisy,  mischievous  bird, 
common  in  Europe  and  America.  12.  Van'ished,  disappeared. 
Me'te-or,  a  shooting  star.  13.  C6n'fi-dent-ly,  with  trust.  17.  Bla-se 
(pro.  bla-za'),  a  French  word  meaning  surfeited,  rendered  incapable 
cf further  enjoyment.  21.  In'va-lid,  a  person  who  is  sickly. 


XXXII.   MY  MOTHER'S  HANDS. 

!•  SUCH  beautiful,  beautiful  hands! 

They're  neither  white  nor  small; 
And  you,  I  know,  would  scarcely  think 

That  they  are  fair  at  all. 
I've  looked  on  hands  whose  form  and  hue 

A  sculptor's  dream  might  be; 
Yet  are  those  aged,  wrinkled  hands 

More  beautiful  to  me. 

2.  Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands! 

Though  heart  were  weary  and  sad, 
Those  patient  hands  kept  toiling  on, 

That  the  children  might  be  glad. 
I  always  weep,  as,  looking  back 

To  childhood's  distant  day, 
I  think  how  those  hands  rested  not 

When  mine  were  at  their  play. 

3.  Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands! 

They're  growing  feeble  now, 
For  time  and  pain  have  left  their  mart 
On  hands  and  heart  and  brow. 


114  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Alas  !  alas  !   the  nearing  time, 

And  the  sad,  sad  day  to  me, 
When  'neath  the  daisies,  out  of  sight, 

These  hands  will  folded  be. 

4.  But  oh!   beyond  this  shadow  land, 

Where  all  is  bright  and  fair, 
I  know  full  well  these  dear  old  hands 

Will  palms  of  victory  bear; 
Where  crystal  streams  through  endless  years 

Flow  over  golden  sands, 
And  where  the  old  grow  young  again, 

I'll  clasp  my  mother's  hands. 


THE  DISCONTENTED  PENDULUM. 

Jane  Taylor  (6. 1783,  d.  1824)  was  born  in  London.  Her  mother  was  a 
writer  of  some  note.  In  connection  with  her  sister  Ann,  Jane  Taylor 
wrote  several  juvenile  works  of  more  than  ordinary  excellence.  Among 
them  were  "  Hymns  for  Infant  Minds  "  and  "  Original  Poems."  Besides 
these,  she  wrote  "  Display,  a  Tale,"  "  Essays  in  Khyme,"  and  "  Contribu- 
tions of  QQ."  Her  writings  are  graceful,  and  often  contain  a  useful  moral. 

1.  AN  old  clock  that  had  stood  for  fifty    years  in  a 
farmer's  kitchen,  without  giving  its   owner  any  cause  of 
complaint,  early  one  summer's  morning,  before  the  family 
was  stirring,  suddenly  stopped.     Upon  this,  the  dial  plate 
(if  we  may  credit  the  fable)   changed  countenance  with 
alarm;  the  hands  made  a  vain  effort  to  continue  their 
course;    the  wheels   remained  motionless  with    surprise; 
the  weights  hung  speechless;  and  each  member  felt  dis- 
posed to  lay  the  blame  on  the  others.     At  length  the  dial 
instituted  a  formal  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of  the  stagnation, 
when  hands,  wheels,  weights,  with  one  voice,  protested 
their  innocence. 

2.  But  now  a  faint  tick  was  heard  below  from  the  pen- 
dulum, who  spoke  thus :  "  I  confess  myself  to  be  the  sole 
cause  of  the  present  stoppage;  and  I  am  willing,  for  the 


FIFTH    READER.  115V 

general  satisfaction,  to  assign  my  reasons.  The  truth  is, 
that  I  am  tired  of  ticking."  Upon  hearing  this,  the  old 
clock  became  so  enraged  that  it  was  upon  the  very  point  of 
striking.  "  Lazy  wire ! "  exclaimed  the  dial  plate,  holding 
up  its  hands. 

3.  "Very  good!"  replied  the  pendulum;   "it  is  vastly 
easy  for  you,  Mistress  Dial,  who  have   always,  as  every- 
body knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me,  —  it  is  vastly  easy 
for  you,  I  say,  to  accuse  other  people  of  laziness !  you  who 
have  had  nothing  to  do  all  your  life  but  to  stare  people  in 
the  face,  and  to  amuse  yourself  with  watching  all  that 
goes  on  in  the  kitchen.     Think,  I  beseech  you,  how  you 
would  like  to  be  shut  up  for  life  in  this  dark  closet,  and  to 
wag  backward  and  forward  year  after  year,  as  I  do." 

4.  "As  to  that,"  said  the  dial,  "is  there  not  a  window 
in  your  house  on  purpose  for  you  to  look  through  ?  "     "  For 
all  that,"  resumed  the  pendulum,  "it  is  very  dark  here; 
and.  although  there  is  a  window,  I  dare  not  stop  even  for 
an  instant  to  look  out  at  it.     Besides,  I  am  really  tired  of 
my  way  of  life ;  and,  if  you  wish,  I  '11  tell  you  how  I  took 
this  disgust  at  my  employment.     I  happened,  this   morn- 
ing, to  be  calculating  how  many  times  I  should  have  to 
tick  in  the   course  of  only  the  next  twenty-four  hours; 
perhaps  some  one  of  you  above  there  can  give  me  the 
exact  sum." 

5.  The  minute   hand,  being  quick  at  figures,  presently 
replied,  "  Eighty-six  thousand  four  hundred  times."     "  Ex- 
actly so,"  replied  the  pendulum.     "Well,  I  appeal  to  you 
all,  if  the  very  thought  of  this  was  not  enough  to  fatigue 
anyone ;  and  when  I  began  to  multiply  the  strokes  of  one 
day  by  those  of  months  and  years,  really  it  was  no  wonder 
if  I  felt  discouraged  at  the  prospect.     So,  after  a  great  deal 
of  reasoning  and  hesitation,  thinks  I  to  myself,  I  '11  stop." 

6.  The  dial  could  scarcely  keep  its  countenance  during 
this   harangue ;   but,   resuming  its   gravity,   thus   replied : 
"Dear  Mr.  Pendulum,  I  am  really  astonished  that  such 


116  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

a  useful,  industrious  person  as  yourself  should  have  been 
seized  by  this  sudden  weariness.  It  is  true,  you  have  done 
a  great  deal  of  work  in  your  time  ;  so  have  we  all,  and 
are  likely  to  do;  which,  although  it  may  fatigue  us  to 
think  of,  the  question  is,  whether  it  will  fatigue  us  to  do. 
Would  you  now  do  me  the  favor  to  give  about  half  a 
dozen  strokes  to  illustrate  my  argument  ? " 

7.  The  pendulum  complied,  and  ticked  six  times  at  its 
usual  pace.     "  Now/7  resumed  the  dial,  "  may  I  be  allowed 
to  inquire  if  that  exertion  is  at  all  fatiguing  or  disagree- 
able to  you  ?  "     "  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  the  pendulum ; 
"  it  is  not  of  six  strokes  that  I  complain,  nor  of  sixty,  but 
of  millions." 

8.  "  Very  good,"  replied  the  dial ;  "  but  recollect  that, 
although  you  may   think   of  a  million   of   strokes  in  an 
instant,  you  are  required  to  execute  but  one ;   and  that, 
however  often  you  may  hereafter  have  to  swing,  a  moment 
will  always  be  given  you  to  swing  in."     "  That  consider- 
ation staggers  me,  I  confess,"  said  the  pendulum.     "  Then 
I  hope,"  resumed  the  dial  plate,  "  that  we  shall  all  return 
to  our  duty  immediately ;  for  the  maids  will  lie  in  bed  if 
we  stand  idling  thus." 

9.  Upon  this,  the  weights,  who  had  never  been  accused 
of  light  conduct,  used  all  their  influence  in  urging  him 
to  proceed;    when,   as   if    with   one   consent,   the   wheels 
began  to  turn,  the  hands   began  to  move,  the  pendulum 
began  to  swing,  and,  to  its  credit,  ticked  as  loud  as  ever ; 
while  a  red  beam  of  the  rising  sun,  that  streamed  through 
a  hole  in  the  kitchen,  shining  full  upon  the  dial  plate,  it 
brightened  up  as  if  nothing  had  been  the  matter. 

10.  When    the  farmer    came    down  to   breakfast    that 
morning,  upon  looking  at  the  clock,  he  declared   that  his 
watch  had  gained  half  an  hour  in  the  night. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  In'sti-tut-ed,  commenced,  began.  Pro-test'ed, 
solemnly  declared.  4.  Cal'eu-lat-ing,  reckoning,  computing.  5.  Pros'- 
peet,  anticipation,  that  to  which  one  looks  forward.  6.  Ha-rangue' 


FIFTH    READER.  117 

(joro.  ha-rang'),  speech.  Il-lus'trate,  to  make  clear,  to  exemplify. 
7.  Ej-er'tion  (pro.  egz-er'shun),  effort.  8.  Ex'e-eute,  to  complete^ 
to  finish.  Con-sld-er-a'tion,  reason. 


XXXIV.    THE  DEATH  OP  THE  FLOWERS. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  (6.  1794,  d.  1878)  was  born  in  Cummington, 
Mass.  He  entered  Williams  College  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  but  was  hon- 
orably dismissed  at  the  end  of  two  years.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one  he 
was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  practiced  his  profession  successfully  for 
nine  years.  In  1826  he  removed  to  New  York,  and  became  connected 
with  the  "Evening  Post" — a  connection  which  continued  to  the  time 
of  his  death.  His  residence  for  more  than  thirty  of  the  last  years  of 
his  life  was  at  Roslyn,  Long  Island.  He  visited  Europe  several  times; 
and  in  1849  he  continued  his  travels  into  Egypt  and  Syria. 

In  all  his  poems,  Mr.  Bryant  exhibits  a  remarkable  love  for,  and  a  careful 
study  of,  nature.  His  language,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  is  always  chaste, 
correct,  and  elegant.  "  Thanatopsis,"  perhaps  the  best  known  of  all  his 
poems,  was  written  when  he  was  but  nineteen.  His  excellent  transla- 
tions of  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the  "  Odyssey  "  of  Homer,  and  some  of  his  best 
poems,  were  written  after  he  had  passed  the  age  of  seventy.  He  retained 
his  powers  and  his  activity  till  the  close  of  his  life. 

1.  THE  melancholy  days  are  come, 

The  saddest  of  the  year, 
Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods, 

And  meadows  brown  and  sear. 
Heaped  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove 

The  autumn  leaves  lie  dead; 
They  rustle  to  the  eddying  gust, 

And  to  the  rabbit's  tread. 
The  robin  and  the  wren  are  flown, 

And  from  the  shrubs  the  jay, 
And  from  the  wood  top  calls  the  crow 

Through  all  the  gloomy  day.    «   : 

2.  Where  are  the  flowers,  the  fair  young  flowers, 

That  lately  sprang  and  stood 
In  brighter  light  and  softer  airs, 
A  beauteous  sisterhood  ? 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Alas!  they  all  are  in  their  graves; 

The  gentle  race  of  flowers 
Are  lying  in  their  lowly  beds 

With  the  fair  and  good  of  ours. 
The  rain  is  falling  where  they  lie; 

But  the  cold  November  rain 
Calls  not  from  out  the  gloomy  earth 

The  lovely  ones  again. 

3.  The  windflower  and  the  violet, 

They  perished  long  ago, 
And  the  brier  rose  and  the  orchis  died 

Amid  the  summer's  glow ; 
But  on  the  hill,  the  golden-rod, 

And  the  aster  in  the  wood, 
And  the  yellow  sunflower  by  the  brook, 

In  autumn  beauty  stood, 
Till  fell  the  frost  from  the  clear,  cold  heaven, 

As  falls  the  plague  on  men, 
And  the  brightness  of  their  smile  was  gone 

From  upland,  glade,  and  glen, 

4.  And  now,  when  comes  the  calm,  mild  day, 

As  still  such  days  will  come, 
To  call  the  squirrel  and  the  bee 

From  out  their  winter  home; 
When  the  sound  of  dropping  nuts  is  heard, 

Though  all  the  trees  are  still, 
And  twinkle  in  the  smoky  light 

The  waters  of  the  rill, 
The  south  wind  searches  for  the  flowers 

Whose  fragrance  late  he  bore, 
And  sighs  to  find  them  in  the  wood 

And  by  the  stream  no  more. 

6.   And  then  I  think  of  one,  who  in 
Her  youthful  beauty  died, 


FIFTH    READER.  119 

The  fair,  meek  blossom  that  grew  up 

And  faded  by  my  side. 
In  the  cold,  moist  earth  we  laid  her, 

When  the  forest  cast  the  leaf, 
And  we  wept  that  one  so  lovely 

Should  have  a  life  so  brief; 
Yet  not  unmeet  it  was  that  one, 

Like  that  young  friend  of  ours, 
So  gentle  and  so  beautiful, 

Should  perish  with  the  flowers. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Wail'ing,  lamenting,  mourning.  Sear,  dry, 
withered.  3.  Glade,  an  open  place  in  the  forest.  Glen,  a  valley,  a 
dale.  4.  Un-meet',  improper,  unfitting. 


XXXV.    THE  THUNDERSTORM. 

Washington  Irving  (b.  1783,  d.  1859).  This  distinguished  author, 
whose  works  have  enriched  American  literature,  was  born  in  the  city  of 
New  York.  He  had  an  ordinary  school  education,  and  hegan  his  literary 
career  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  by  writing  for  a  paper  published  by  his 
brother.  His  first  book,  "  Salmagundi,"  was  published  in  1807.  Two 
years  later  he  published  "  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York."  In 
1815  he  sailed  for  Europe,  and  remained  abroad  seventeen  years,  during 
which  time  he  wrote  several  of  his  works.  From  1842  to  1846  he  was  min- 
ister to  Spain.  The  last  years  of  his  life  were  passed  at  "  Sunnyside," 
near  Tarrytown,  N.Y.  He  was  never  married.  "The  Life  of  Washing- 
ton," his  last  work,  was  completed  in  the  same  year  in  which  he  died. 
Mr.  Irving's  works  are  characterized  by  humor,  chaste  sentiment,  and 
elegance  and  correctness  of  expression.  The  following  selection  is  from 
"  Dolph  "  in  "  Bracebridge  Hall." 

1.  Ix  the  second  day  of  the  voyage,  they  came  to  the 
Highlands.  It  was  the  latter  part  of  a  calm,  sultry  day, 
that  they  floated  gently  with  the  tide  between  these  stern 
mountains.  There  was  that  perfect  quiet  which  prevails 
over  nature  in  the  languor  of  summer  heat.  The  turning 
of  a  plank,  or  the  accidental  falling  of  an  oar,  on  deck, 
was  echoed  from  the  mountain  side  and  reverberated  along 
the  shores ;  and,  if  by  chance  the  captain  gave  a  shout  of 


120  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

command,  there  were  airy  tongues  that  mocked   it  from 
every  cliff. 

2.  Dolph  gazed  about  him,  in  mute  delight  and  wonder, 
at  these  scenes  of  nature's  magnificence.     To  the  left,  the 
Dunderberg  reared  its  woody  precipices,  height  over  height, 
forest  over  forest,  away  into  the  deep  summer  sky.     To  the 
right,  strutted  forth  the  bold  promontory  of  Antony's  Nose, 
with  a  solitary  eagle  wheeling  about  it ;  while  beyond,  moun- 
tain succeeded  to  mountain,  until  they  seemed  to  lock  their 
arms   together    and    confine   this   mighty   river   in    their 
embraces. 

3.  In  the  midst  of  this  admiration,  Dolph  remarked  a 
pile  of  bright,  snowy  clouds  peering  above  the  western 
heights.     It  was  succeeded  by  another,  and  another,  each 
seemingly  pushing  onward  its  predecessor,  and  towering, 
with  dazzling   brilliancy,   in  the  deep  blue  atmosphere; 
and  now  muttering  peals  of  thunder  were  faintly  heard 
rolling  behind  the  mountains.      The   river,  hitherto  still 
and  glassy,  reflecting  pictures  of  the  sky  and  land,  now 
showed  a  dark  ripple  at  a  distance,  as  the  wind  came 
creeping  up  it.      The   fishhawks  wheeled  and  screamed, 
and  sought  their  nests  on  the  high,  dry  trees;   the  crows 
flew  clamorously  to  the  crevices   of  the  rocks;    and  all 
nature  seemed  conscious  of  the  approaching  thunder  gust. 

4.  The  clouds  now  rolled  in  volumes  over  the  mountain 
tops ;  their  summits  still  bright  and  snowy,  but  the  lower 
parts  of   an  inky  blackness.     The  rain  began  to  patter 
down  in  broad  and  scattered  drops;  the  wind  freshened, 
and  curled  up  the  waves;   at  length,  it  seemed  as  if  the 
bellying  clouds  were  torn  open  by  the  mountain  tops,  and 
complete  torrents  of  rain  came  rattling  down.     The  light- 
ning leaped  from  cloud  to  cloud,  and  streamed  quivering 
against  the  rocks,  splitting  and  rending  the  stoutest  forest 
trees.     The  thunder  burst  in  tremendous  explosions;    the 
peals    were    echoed    from    mountain    to    mountain;    they 
crashed  upon  Dunderberg,  and  then  rolled  up  the  long 


FIFTH   READER.  121 

defile  of  the  Highlands,  each  headland  making  a  new  echo, 
until  old  Bull  Hill  seemed  to  bellow  back  the  storm. 

5.  For  a  time  the  scudding  rack  and  mist  and  the 
sheeted  rain  almost  hid  the  landscape  from  the  sight. 
There  was  a  fearful  gloom,  illumined  still  more  fearfully 
by  the  streams  of  lightning  which  glittered  among  the 
raindrops.  Never  had  Dolph  beheld  such  an  absolute 
warring  of  the  elements;  it  seemed  as  if  the  storm  was 
tearing  and  rending  its  way  through  the  mountain  defile, 
and  had  brought  all  the  artillery  of  heaven  into  action. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Lan'guor  {pro.  lang'gwgr),  exhaustion  of 
strength,  dullness.  3.  Re-marked',  noticed,  observed.  Pred-e-^es'- 
sor,  the  one  going  immediately  before.  Clam'or-ous-ly,  with  a  loud 
noise.  4.  BeTly-ing,  swelling  out.  De-file',  a  long,  narrow  pass. 
5.  Rack,  thin,  flying,  broken  clouds.  El'e-ments,  a  term  usually 
including  fire,  water,  earth,  and  air. 

NOTES.  —  1.  The  Highlands  are  a  mountainous  region  in  New 
York,  bordering  the  Hudson  River  above  Peekskill. 

2.  The  Dunderberg  and  Antony's  Nose  are  names  of  two  peaks 
of  the  Highlands. 

4.  Bull  Hill,  also  called  Mt.  Taurus,  is  15  miles  farther  north. 


XXXVI.    APRIL  DAY. 

Caroline  Anne  Southey  (6  1786,  d.  1854),  the  second  wife  of  Southey 
the  poet,  and  better  known  as  Caroline  Bowles,  was  born  near  Lyming- 
ton,  Hampshire,  England.  Her  first  work,  "  Ellen  Fitzarthur,"  a  poem, 
was  published  in  1820 ;  and  for  more  than  twenty  years  her  writings  were 
published  anonymously.  In  1839  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Southey,  and 
survived  him  over  ten  years.  Her  poetry  is  graceful  in  expression,  and 
full  of  tenderness,  though  somewhat  melancholy.  The  following  extract 
first  appeared  in  1822  in  a  collection  entitled,  "The  Widow's  Tale,  and 
other  Poems." 

1.   ALL  day  the  low-hung  clouds  have  dropped 

Their  garnered  fullness  down; 
All  day  that  soft,  gray  mist  hath  wrapped 
Hill,  valley,  grove,  and  town. 


122  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  There  has  not  been  a  sound  to-day 

To  break  the  calm  of  nature; 
Nor  motion,  I  might  almost  say, 
Of  life  or  living  creature; 

3.  Of  waving  bough,  or  warbling  bird, 

Or  cattle  faintly  lowing; 
I  could  have  half  believed  I  heard 
The  leaves  and  blossoms  growing. 

4.  I  stood  to  hear  —  I  love  it  well  — 

The  rain's  continuous  sound; 
Small  drops,  but  thick  and  fast  they  fell, 
Down  straight  into  the  ground. 

5.  For  leafy  thickness  is  not  yet 

Earth's  naked  breast  to  screen, 
Though  every  dripping  branch  is  set 
With  shoots  of  tender  green. 

6.  Sure,  since  I  looked,  at  early  morn, 

Those  honeysuckle  buds 
Have  swelled  to  double  growth;  that  thorn 
Hath  put  forth  larger  studs. 

7.  That  lilac's  cleaving  cones  have  burst, 

The  milk-white  flowers  revealing; 
Even  now  upon  my  senses  first 
Methinks  their  sweets  are  stealing. 

8.  The  very  earth,  the  steamy  air, 

Is  all  with  fragrance  rife! 
And  grace  and  beauty  everywhere 
Are  flushing  into  life. 


FIFTH   READER.  128 

9.   Down,  down  they  come,  those  fruitful  stores, 

Those  earth-rejoicing  drops! 
A  momentary  deluge  pours, 
Then  thins,  decreases,  stops. 

10.   And  ere  the  dimples  on  the  stream 

Have  circled  out  of  sight, 
Lo!  from  the  west  a  parting  gleam 
Breaks  forth  of  amber  light. 


11.   But  yet  behold  —  abrupt  and  loud, 
Comes  down  the  glittering  rain; 
The  farewell  of  a  passing  cloud, 
The  fringes  of  its  train. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Gar'nered,  laid  up,  treasured.  6.  Studs, 
knobs,  buds.  7.  Cleav'ing,  dividing.  10.  Dim'ples,  small  depres- 
sions. Am'ber,  the  color  of  amber,  yellow. 


XXXVII.  THE  TEA  ROSE. 

1.  THERE  it  stood,  in  its  little  green  vase,  on  a  light 
ebony  stand  in  the  window  of  the  drawing-room.  The 
rich  satin  curtains,  with  their  costly  fringes,  swept  down 
on  either  side  of  it,  and  around  it  glittered  every  rare  and 
fanciful  trifie  which  wealth  can  offer  to  luxury,  and  yet 
that  simple  rose  was  the  fairest  of  them  all.  So  pure  it 
looked,  its  white  leaves  just  touched  with  that  delicious, 
creamy  tint  peculiar  to  its  kind;  its  cup  so  full,  so  pea- 


124 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


feet,  its  head  bending,  as  if  it  were  sinking  and  melting 
away  in  its  own  richness.  —  Oh !  when  did  ever  man  make 
anything  to  equal  the  living,  perfect  flower ! 

2.   But  the  sunlight  that  streamed  through  the  window 


FIFTH   READER.  125 

revealed  something  fairer  than  the  rose  —  a  young  lady 
reclining  on  an  ottoman,  who  was  thus  addressed  by  her 
livelier  cousin:  "I  say,  cousin,  I  have  been  thinking  what 
you  are  to  do  with  your  pet  rose  when  you  go  to  New 
York;  as,  to  our  consternation,  you  are  determined  to  do. 
You  know  it  would  be  a  sad  pity  to  leave  it  with  such  a 
scatter-brain  as  I  am.  I  love  flowers,  indeed,  —  that  is,  I 
like  a  regular  bouquet,  cut  off  and  tied  up,  to  carry  to  a 
party;  but  as  to  all  this  tending  and  fussing  which  is  need- 
ful to  keep  them  growing,  I  have  no  gifts  in  that  line." 

3.  "  Make  yourself  easy  as  to  that,  Kate,"  said  Florence, 
with  a  smile;   "I  have  no  intention  of  calling  upon  your 
talents ;  I  have  an  asylum  in  view  for  my  favorite." 

4.  "Oh,  then  you  know  just  what  I  was  going  to  say. 
Mrs.  Marshall,  I  presume,  has  been  speaking  to  you;  she 
was  here  yesterday,  and  I  was  quite  pathetic  upon  the 
subject;   telling  her  the  loss  your  favorite  would  sustain, 
and  so  forth;   and  she   said  how  delighted  she  would  be 
to  have  it  in  her  greenhouse;   it  is  in  such  a  fine  state 
now,  so  full  of  buds.     I  told  her  I  knew  you  would  like 
to  give  it  to  her;  you  are  so  fond  of  Mrs.  Marshall,  you 
know." 

5.  "Now,  Kate,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  otherwise  en- 
gaged." 

"  Whom  can  it  be  to  ?  you  have  so  few  intimates  here." 
"Oh,  it  is  only  one  of  my  odd  fancies." 
"  But  do  tell  me,  Florence." 

"  Well,  cousin,  you  know  the  little  pale  giri  to  whom  we 
give  sewing  ?  " 

6.  "What!   little  Mary  Stephens?    How  absurd,  Flor- 
ence !     This  is  just  another  of  your  motherly,  old-maidish 
ways;   dressing  dolls  for  poor  children,  making  bonnets, 
and  knitting   socks  for  all  the   little   dirty  babies  in  the 
neighborhood.     I  do  believe  you  have  made  more   calls 
in  those  two  vile,  ill-smelling  alleys  behind  our  house  than 
ever  you  have  in  Chestnut  Street,  though  you  know  every- 


126  'ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

body  is  half  dying  to  see  you ;  and  now,  to  crown  all,  you 
must  give  this  choice  little  bijou  to  a  seamstress  girl,  when 
one  of  your  most  intimate  friends,  in  your  own  class,  would 
value  it  so  highly.  What  in  the  world  can  people  in  their 
circumstances  want  with  flowers  ?  " 

7.  "Just  the   same  as  I  do,"  replied  Florence,  calmly. 
"Have  you  not  noticed  that  the   little  girl  never  comes 
without  looking  wistfully  at  the  opening  buds  ?     And  don't 
you  remember,  the  other  morning  she  asked  me  so  prettily 
if  I  would  let  her  mother  come  and  see  it,  she  was  so  fond 
of  flowers  ?  " 

8.  "  But,  Florence,  only  think  of  this  rare  flower  stand- 
ing on  a  table  with  ham,  eggs,  cheese,  and  flour,  and  stifled 
in  that  close  little  room,  where  Mrs.  Stephens   and  her 
daughter  manage  to  wash,  iron,  and  cook." 

9.  "Well,  Kate,  and  if  I  were  obliged  to  live   in  one 
coarse  room,  and  wash,  and  iron,  and  cook,  as  you  say; 
if  I  had  to  spend  every  moment  of  my  time  in  toil,  with 
no  prospect  from  my  window  but  a  brick  wall  and  a  dirty 
lane,  such  a  flower  as  this  would  be  untold  enjoyment  to 
me." 

10.  "Pshaw,  Florence;  all  sentiment!     Poor  people  have 
no  time  to  be  sentimental.     Besides,  I  don't  believe  it  will 
grow  with  them;   it  is  a  greenhouse  flower,  and  used  to 
delicate  living." 

11.  "  Oh,  as  to  that,  a  flower  never  inquires  whether  its 
owner  is  rich  or  poor;  and  poor  Mrs.  Stephens,  whatever 
else  she  has  not,  has  sunshine  of  as  good  quality  as  this  that 
streams  through  our  window.     The   beautiful  things  that 
God  makes  are  his  gifts  to  all  alike.      You  will  see  that  my 
fair  rose  will  be  as  well  and  cheerful  in  Mrs.  Stephens's 
room  as  in  ours." 

12.  "  Well,  after  all,  how  odd !     When  one  gives  to  poor 
people,  one  wants  to  give  them  something  useful  —  a  bushel 
of  potatoes,  a  ham,  and  such  things." 

13.  "  Why,  certainly,  potatoes  and  ham  must  be  supplied; 


FIFTH   EEADER.  127 

but,  having  ministered  to  the  first  and  most  craving  wants, 
why  not  add  any  other  little  pleasures  or  gratifications  we 
may  have  it  in  our  power  to  bestow?  I  know  there  are 
many  of  the  poor  who  have  fine  feeling  and  a  keen  sense 
of  the  beautiful,  which  rusts  out  and  dies  because  they  are 
too  hard  pressed  to  procure  it  any  gratification.  Poor  Mrs. 
Stephens,  for  example ;  I  know  she  would  enjoy  birds,  and 
flowers,  and  music  as  much  as  I  do.  I  have  seen  her  eye 
light  up  as  she  looked  upon  these  things  in  our  drawing-' 
room,  and  yet  not  one  beautiful  thing  can  she  command. 
From  necessity,  her  room,  her  clothing,  —  all  she  has,  must 
be  coarse  and  plain.  You  should  have  seen  the  almost 
rapture  she  and  Mary  felt  when  I  offered  them  my  rose." 

14.  "  Dear  me !  all  this  may  be  true,  but  I  never  thought 
of  it  before.     I  never  thought  that  these  hard-working  peo- 
ple had  any  ideas  of  taste  !  " 

15.  "  Then  why  do  you  see  the  geranium  or  rose  so  care- 
fully nursed  in  the  old  cracked  teapot  in  the  poorest  room, 
or  the  morning-glory  planted  in  a  box  and  twined  about  the 
window  ?    Do  not  these  show  that  the  human  heart  yearns 
for  the  beautiful  in  all  ranks  of  life?    You  remember, 
Kate,  how  our  washerwoman  sat  up  a  whole  night,  after  a 
hard  day's  work,  to  make  her  first  baby  a  pretty  dress  to 
be  baptized  in."     "  Yes,  and  I  remember  how  I  laughed  at 
you  for  making  such  a  tasteful  little  cap  for  it." 

16.  "True,  Kate,  but  I  think  the  look  of  perfect  delight 
with  which  the  poor  woman  regarded  her  baby  in  its  new 
dress  and  cap  was  something  quite  worth  creating;  I  do 
believe  she  could  not  have  felt  more  grateful  if  I  had  sent 
her  a  barrel  of  flour." 

17.  "Well,  I  never  thought  before  of  giving  anything 
to  the  poor  but  what  they  really  needed,  and  I  have  always 
been  willing  to  do  that  when  I  could  without  going  far  out 
of  my  way." 

18.  "Ah!  cousin,  if  our  heavenly  Father  gave  to  us  after 
this  mode,  we  should  have  only  coarse,  shapeless  piles  of 


128  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

provisions  lying  about  the  world,  instead  of  all  this  beauti- 
ful variety  of  trees,  and  fruits,  and  flowers." 

19.  "Well,  well,  cousin,  I  suppose  you  are  right,  but 
have  mercy  on  my  poor  head;  it  is  too  small  to  hold  so 
many  new  ideas  all  at  once,  so  go  on  your  own  way ; "  and 
the  little  lady  began  practicing  a  waltzing  step  before  the 
glass  with  great  satisfaction. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Ot'to-man,  a  stuffed  seat  without  a  back.  3. 
A-sy'lum,  a  place  of  refuge  and  protection.  4.  Pa-thet'ie,  moving  to 
pity  or  grief.  6.  Bi-jpu'  {pro.  be-zhoo',  a  jewel.  Cir'eum-stan9-es, 
condition  in  regard  to  worldly  property.  10.  Sen-ti-ment'al,  showing 
an  excess  of  sentiment  or  feeling.  13.  Com-mand',  to  claim.  Rap'- 
ture,  extreme  joy  or  pleasure,  ecstasy.  14.  Taste,  the  faculty  of  dis- 
cerning beauty  or  whatever  forms  excellence.  15.  Yearng,  longs,  is 
eager. 


XXXVIII.    THE  CATARACT  OP  LODOEE. 

1.  "How  does  the  water 
Come  down  at  Lodore?" 
My  little  boy  asked  me 

Thus  once  on  a  time; 
And,  moreover,  he  tasked  me 
To  tell  him  in  rhyme. 

2.  Anon  at  the  word, 

There  first  came  one  daughter, 
And  then  came  another, 

To  second  and  third 
The  request  of  their  brother, 
And  to  hear  how  the  water 

Comes  down  at  Lodore, 

With  its  rush  and  its  roar, 
As  many  a  time 

They  had  seen  it  before. 


FIFTH    READER.  129 

3.  So  I  told  them  in  rhyme, 
For  of  rhymes  I  had  store, 

And  't  was  in  my  vocatioD 
For  their  recreation 
That  so  I  should  sing; 
Because  I  was  Laureate 

To  them  and  the  King. 

4.  From  its  sources  which  well 
In  the  tarn  on  the  fell; 
From  its  fountains 

In  the  mountains, 
Its  rills  and  its  gills; 

Through  moss  and  through  brake, 

It  runs  and  it  creeps 

For  a  while,  till  it  sleeps 
In  its  own  little  lake. 

5.  And  thence  at  departing, 
Awakening  and  starting, 
It  runs  through  the  reeds, 
And  away  it  proceeds, 
Through  meadow  and  glade, 
In  sun  and  in  shade, 

And  through  the  wood  shelter, 

Among  crags  in  its  flurry, 
Helter-skelter, 

Hurry-skurry. 

6.  Here  it  comes  sparkling, 
And  there  it  lies  darkling; 
Now  smoking  and  frothing 
Its  tumult  and  wrath  in, 
Till,  in  this  rapid  race 

On  which  it  is  bent, 
It  reaches  the  place 
Of  its  steep  descent. 


130  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

7.  The  cataract  strong 
Then  plunges  along, 
Striking  and  raging 
As  if  a  war  waging 

Its  caverns  and  rocks  among; 

8.  Rising  and  leaping, 
Sinking  and  creeping, 
Swelling  and  sweeping, 
Showering  and  springing, 
Flying  and  flinging, 
Writhing  and  ringing, 
Eddying  and  whisking, 
Spouting  and  frisking, 
Turning  and  twisting, 
Around  and  around 
With  endless  rebound; 
Smiting  and  fighting, 

A  sight  to  delight  in; 
Confounding,  astounding, 
Dizzying,  and  deafening  the  ear  with  its  sound 

9.   Collecting,  projecting, 
Eeceding  and  speeding, 
And  shocking  and  rocking, 
And  darting  and  parting, 
And  threading  and  spreading, 
And  whizzing  and  hissing, 
And  dripping  and  skipping, 
And  hitting  and  splitting, 
And  shining  and  twining, 
And  rattling  and  battling, 
And  shaking  and  quaking, 
And  pouring  and  roaring, 
And  waving  and  raving, 
And  tossing  and  crossing, 


FIFTH    HEADER.  131 

And  guggling  and  struggling, 
And  heaving  and  cleaving, 
And  moaning  and  groaning, 
And  glittering  and  frittering, 
And  gathering  and  feathering, 
And  whitening  and  brightening, 
And  quivering  and  shivering, 
And  hurrying  and  skurrying, 
And  thundering  and  floundering; 

10.  Dividing  and  gliding  and  sliding, 

And  falling  and  brawling  and  sprawling, 

And  driving  and  riving  and  striving, 

And  sprinkling  and  twinkling  and  wrinkling; 

11.  And  thumping  and  plumping  and  bumping  and  jumping, 
And  dashing  and  flashing  and  splashing  and  clashing  j 
And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 
Sounds  and  motions  forever  and  ever  are  blending, 

All  at  once  and  all  o'er,  with  a  mighty  uproar, 
And  this  way  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore. 

—  Abridged  from  Southey. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  4.  Tarn,  a  small  lake  among  the  mountains. 
Fell  (provincial  English),  a  stony  hill.  Gills  (provincial  English), 
brooks.  10.  Brawling,  roaring.  Riv'ing,  splitting. 

NOTES.  —  1.  Lodore  is  a  cascade  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Derwent- 
•water,  in  Cumberland,  England,  near  where  Southey  lived. 

3.  Laureate.  The  term  probably  arose  from  a  custom  in  the 
English  universities  of  presenting  a  laurel  wreath  to  graduates 
in  rhetoric  and  versification.  In  England  the  poet  laureate's 
office  is  filled  by  appointment  of  the  lord  chamberlain.  The 
salary  is  quite  small,  and  the  office  is  valued  chiefly  as  one  of 
honor. 

This  lesson  is  peculiarly  adapted  for  practice  on  the  difficult 
sound  ing. 


132  ECLECTIC   SERL8S. 


XXXIX.    THE  BOBOLINK. 

1.  THE  happiest  bird  of  our  spring,  however,  and  one 
that  rivals  the  European  lark  in  my  estimation,  is  the  bob- 
lincoln,  or  bobolink  as  he  is  commonly  called.     He  arrives 
at  that  choice  portion  of  our  year  which,  in  this  latitude, 
answers  to  the  description  of  the  month  of  May  so  often 
given  by  the  poets.     With  us  it  begins  about  the  middle 
of  May,  and  lasts  until  nearly  the  middle  of  June.     Earlier 
than  this,  winter  is  apt  to  return  on  its  traces,  and  to  blight 
the  opening  beauties  of  the  year ;  and  later  than  this,  begin 
the  parching,  and  panting,  and  dissolving  heats  of  summer. 
But  in  this  genial  interval,  Nature  is  in  all  her  freshness 
and  fragrance:  "the  rains  are  over  and  gone,  the  flowers 
appear  upon  the  earth,  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is 
come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land." 

2.  The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  foliage  and  bright- 
est verdure ;  the  woods  are  gay  with  the  clustered  flowers 
of  the  laurel ;   the  air  is  perfumed  with  the   sweetbrier 
and  the  wild  rose ;  the  meadows  are  enameled  with  clover 
blossoms;  while  the  young  apple,  peach,  and  the  plum 
begin  to  swell,  and  the  cherry  to  glow  among  the  green 
leaves. 

3.  This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry  of  the  bobolink. 
He  comes  amid  the  pomp  and  fragrance  of  the  season; 
his  life  seems  all  sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and 
sunshine.     He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms  of  the 
freshest  and  sweetest  meadows,  and  is  most  in  song  when 
the  clover  is  in  blossom.     He  perches  on  the  topmost  twig 
of  a  tree,  or  on  some  long,  flaunting  weed,  and,  as  he  rises 
and  sinks  with  the  breeze,  pours  forth  a  succession  of  rich, 
tinkling  notes,  crowding  one  upon  another,  like  the  outpour- 
ing melody  of  the  skylark,  and  possessing  the  same  rap- 
turous character. 

4.  Sometimes  he  pitches  from  the  summit  of  a  tree,  be- 


FIFTH   READER.  133 

gins  his  song  as  soon  as  he  gets  upon  the  wing,  and  flutters 
tremulously  down  to  the  earth,  as  if  overcome  with  ecstasy 
at  his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  mate ; 
always  in  full  song,  as  if  he  would  win  her  by  his  melody ; 
and  always  with  the  same  appearance  of  intoxication  and 
delight.  Of  all  the  birds  of  our  groves  and  meadows,  the 
bobolink  was  the  envy  of  my  boyhood.  He  crossed  my 
path  in  the  sweetest  weather,  and  the  sweetest  season  of 
the  year,  when  all  nature  called  to  the  fields,  and  the 
rural  feeling  throbbed  in  every  bosom ;  but  when  I,  luck- 
less urchin !  was  doomed  to  be  mewed  up,  during  the  live- 
long day,  in  a  schoolroom. 

5.  It  seemed  as  if  the  little  varlet  mocked  at  me  as  he 
flew  by  in  full  song,  and  sought  to  taunt  me  with  his  hap- 
pier lot.     Oh,  how  I  envied  him !    No  lessons,  no  task,  no 
echool;  nothing  but  holiday,  frolic,  green  fields,  and  fine 
weather.     Had  I  been  then  more  versed  in  poetry,  I  might 
have  addressed  him  in  the  words  of  Logan  to  the  cuckoo : 

"Sweet  bird,  thy  bower  is  ever  green, 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 
No  winter  in  thy  year. 

"Oh,  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee! 

We'd  make,  with  joyful  wing, 
Our  annual  visit  o'er  the  globe, 
Companions  of  the  spring." 

6.  Further  observation  and  experience  have  given  me 
a  different  idea  of  this  feathered  voluptuary,  which  I  will 
venture  to  impart  for  the  benefit  of  my  young  readers,  who 
may  regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy  and  admi- 
ration which  I  once  indulged.     I  have  shown  him  only  as 
I  saw  him  at  first,  in  what  I  may  call  the  poetical   part 
of  his  career,  when  he,  in  a  manner,  devoted  himself  to 
elegant  pursuits  and  enjoyments,  and  was  a  bird  of  music, 
and  song,  and  taste,  and  sensibility,  and  refinement.     While 


134  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

this  lasted  lie  was  sacred  from  injury;  the  very  schoolboy 
would  not  fling  a  stone  at  him,  and  the  merest  rustic  would 
pause  to  listen  to  his  strain. 

7.  But  mark  the  difference.     As  the  year  advances,  as 
the  clover  blossoms  disappear,  and  the  spring  fades  into 
summer,   he   gradually   gives   up   his   elegant    tastes    and 
habits,  doffs  his  poetical  suit  of  black,  assumes  a  russet, 
dusty  garb,  and  sinks  to  the  gross  enjoyment  of  common 
vulgar  birds.     His   notes   no   longer  vibrate   on  the   ear; 
he  is  stuffing  himself  with  the  seeds  of  the  tall  weeds  on 
which  he  lately  swung  and  chanted  so  melodiously.     He 
has  become  a  bon  vivant,  a  gourmand :  with  him  now  there 
is  nothing  like  the  "joys  of  the  table."     In  a  little  while 
he  grows  tired  of  plain,  homely  fare,  and  is  off  on  a  gas- 
tronomic tour  in  quest  of  foreign  luxuries. 

8.  We   next  hear  of  him,   with  myriads   of  his   kind, 
banqueting  among  the  reeds  of  the  Delaware,  and  grown 
corpulent  with  good  feeding.     He  has  changed  his  name 
in  traveling.     Boblincoln  no  more,  he  is  the  reedbird  now, 
the  much-sought-for  tidbit  of  Pennsylvanian  epicures,  the 
rival  in  unlucky  fame  of  the  ortolan !     Wherever  he  goes, 
pop !   pop !    pop !   every   rusty   firelock   in  the   country  is 
blazing  away.     He  sees   his  companions   falling  by  thou- 
sands around  him.     Does  he  take  warning  and  reform? 
Alas!    not  he.      Again  he  wings    his    flight.      The    rice 
swamps   of    the   south  invite    him.      He   gorges    himself 
among  them  almost  to  bursting;   he  can  scarcely  fly  for 
corpulency.     He  has  once  more  changed  his  name,  and  is 
now  the  famous  ricebird  of  the  Carolinas.     Last  stage  of 
his  career :  behold  him  spitted,  with  dozens  of  his  corpu- 
lent companions,  and  served  up,  a  vaunted  dish,  on  some 
southern  table. 

9.  Such  is  the   story  of  the  bobolink;    once   spiritual, 
musical,  admired,  the  joy  of  the  meadows,  and  the  favorite 
bird  of  spring ;  finally,  a  gross  little  sensualist,  who  expi- 
ates his  sensuality  in  the  larder.     His  story  contains  a  moral 


FIFTH    READER.  135 

worthy  the  attention  of  all  little  birds  and  little  boys; 
warning  them  to  keep  to  those  refined  and  intellectual 
pursuits  which  raised  him  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  popularity 
during  the  early  part  of  his  career,  but  to  eschew  all 
tendency  to  that  gross  and  dissipated  indulgence  which 
brought  this  mistaken  little  bird  to  an  untimely  end. 

—  From  Irvincfs  "Birds  of  Spring.1' 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  En-am'eled,  coated  with  a  smooth,  glossy  sur- 
face. 3.  Sen-si-bil'i-ty,  feeling.  4.  Mewed,  shut  up.  5.  VaVlet, 
a  rascal.  Versed,  familiar,  practiced.  6.  Vo-lup'tu-a-ry,  one  who 
makes  his  bodily  enjoyment  his  chief  object.  7.  Bon  vi-vant  (French, 
pro.  boN  ve-vax'),  one  who  Jives  well.  Gour-mand  (French,  pro. 
godVmax),  a  glutton.  Gas-tro-nom'ie,  relating  to  the  science  of  good 
eating.  8.  Cor'pu-lent,  fleshy,  fat.  Ep'i-eure,  one  who  indulges  in 
the  luxuries  of  the  table.  Vaunt'ed,  boasted.  9.  Ex'pi-ates,  atones 
for.  Lard'er,  a  pantry.  Es-chew',  to  shun. 

NOTES.  —  5.  John  Logan  (b.  1748,  d.  1788).  A  Scotch  writer  of 
note.  His  writings  include  dramas,  poetry,  history,  and  essays. 

8.  The  ortolan  is  a  small  bird,  abundant  in  southern  Europe, 
Cyprus,  and  Japan.  It  is  fattened  for  the  table,  and  is  considered 
a  great  delicacy. 


XL.    ROBERT  OF  LINCOLN. 

MERRILY  swinging  on  brier  and  weed, 
Near  to  the  nest  of  his  little  dame, 
Over  the  mountain  side  or  mead, 

Kobert  of  Lincoln  is  telling  his  name 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink. 
Snug  and  safe  is  that  nest  of  ours. 
Hidden  among  the  summer  flowers. 
Ghee,  chee,  chee." 


136  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Robert  of  Lincoln  is  gaily  dressed, 

Wearing  a  bright  black  wedding  coat: 
White  are  his  shoulders,  and  white  his  crest, 
Hear  him  call  in  his  merry  note: 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Look  what  a  nice  new  coat  is  mine; 
Sure,  there  was  never  a  bird  so  fine. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

3.  Kobert  of  Lincoln's  Quaker  wife, 

Pretty  and  quiet,  with  plain  brown  wings, 
Passing  at  home  a  patient  life, 

Broods  in  the  grass  while  her  husband  sings 
"  Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 

Brood,  kind  creature;  you  need  not  fear 
Thieves  and  robbers  while  I  am  here. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

4.  Modest  and  shy  as  a  nun  is  she, 

One  weak  chirp  is  her  only  note; 
Braggart  and  prince  of  braggarts  is  he, 
Pouring  boasts  from  his  little  throat: 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Never  was  I  afraid  of  man, 
Catch  me,  cowardly  knaves,  if  you  can. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

5.  Six  white  eggs  on  a  bed  of  hay, 

Flecked  with  purple,  a  pretty  sight! 
There  as  the  mother  sits  all  day, 
Kobert  is  singing  with  all  his  might: 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 


FIFTH    HEADER.  137 

Nice  good  wife  that  never  goes  cut, 
Keeping  house  while  I  frolic  about. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

6.  Soon  as  the  little  ones  chip  the  shell, 

Six  wide  mouths  are  opeu  for  food; 
Robert  of  Lincoln  bestirs  him  well, 
Gathering  seeds  for  the  hungry  brood. 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 
This  new  life  is  likely  to  be 
Hard  for  a  gay  young  fellow  like  me. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

7.  Robert  of  Lincoln  at  length  is  made 

Sober  with  work,  and  silent  with  care; 
Off  is  his  holiday  garment  laid, 
Half  forgotten  that  merry  air: 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Nobody  knows  but  my  mate  and  I 
Where  our  nest  and  our  nestlings  lie. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

8.  Summer  wanes;  the  children  are  grown; 

Fun  and  frolic  no  more  he  knows; 
Robert  of  Lincoln's  a  humdrum  crone; 
Off  he  flies,  and  we  sing  as  he  goes: 
"Bobolink,  bobolink, 

Spink,  spank,  spink, 

When  you  can  pipe  that  merry  old  strain, 
Robert  of  Lincoln,  come  back  again. 
Chee,  chee,  chee." 

—  William  Cutten  Bryant. 


138  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


XLI.  REBELLION  IN  MASSACHUSETTS  STATE  PRISON. 

1.  A  MORE  impressive  exhibition  of  moral  courage,  op- 
posed to  the  wildest  ferocity  under  the  most  appalling  cir- 
cumstances, was  never  seen  than  that  which  was  witnessed 
by  the  officers  of  our  state  prison,  in  the  rebellion  which 
occurred  some  years  since. 

2.  Three  convicts  had  been  sentenced,  under  the  rules 
of  the  prison,  to  be  whipped  in  the  yard,  and,  by  some 
effort  of  one  of  the  other  prisoners,  a  door  had  been  opened 
at  midday  communicating  with  the  great  dining  hall  and, 
through  the  warden's  lodge,  with  the  street. 

3.  The  dining  hall  was  long,  dark,  and  damp,  from  its 
situation  near  the  surface  of  the  ground;  and  in  this  all 
the  prisoners  assembled,  with  clubs  and  such  other  tools  as 
they  could  seize  in  passing  through  the  workshops. 

4.  Knives,  hammers,  and  chisels,  with  every  variety  of 
such  weapons,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  ferocious  spirits, 
who  are  drawn  away  from  their  encroachments  on  society, 
forming  a  congregation  of  strength,  vileness,  and  talent 
that  can   hardly  be  equaled  on   earth,  even   among  the 
famed  brigands  of  Italy. 

5.  Men  of  all  ages  and  characters,  guilty  of  every  variety 
of  infamous  crime,  dressed  in  the  motley  and  peculiar  garb 
of  the  institution,  and  displaying  the  wild  and  demoniac 
appearance  that  always  pertains  to  imprisoned  wretches, 
were  gathered  together  for  the  single  purpose  of  preventing 
the  punishment  which  was  to  be  inflicted  on  the  morrow 
upon  their  comrades. 

6.  The  warden,  the  surgeon,  and  some  other  officers  of 
the  prison  were  there  at  the  time,  and  were  alarmed  at 
the  consequences  likely  to  ensue  from  the  conflict  neces- 
sary to  restore  order.     They  huddled  together,  and  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  consult,  as  the  stoutest  among  them 
lost  all  presence  of  mind  in  overwhelming  fear.     The  news 


FIFTH   READER.  139 

rapidly  spread  through  the  town,  and  a  subordinate  officer, 
of  the  most  mild  and  kind  disposition,  hurried  to  the  scene, 
and  came  calm  and  collected  into  the  midst  of  the  officers. 
The  most  equable-tempered  and  the  mildest  man  in  the 
government  was  in  this  hour  of  peril  the  firmest. 

7.  He  instantly  dispatched  a  request  to  Major  Wain- 
right,  commander  of  the  marines   stationed  at  the  Navy 
Yard,  for  assistance,  and  declared   his  purpose  to  enter 
into  the  hall  and  try  the  force  of  firm  demeanor  and  per- 
suasion upon  the  enraged  multitude. 

8.  All  his  brethren  exclaimed  against  an  attempt  so  full 
of  hazard,  but  in  vain.     They  offered  him  arms,  a  sword 
and  pistols,  but  he  refused  them,  and  said  that  he  had  no 
fear,  and,  in  case  of  danger,  arms  would  do  him  no  service ; 
and  alone,  with  only  a  little  rattan,  which  was  his  usual 
walking  stick,  he  advanced  into  the  hall  to  hold  parley 
with  the  selected,  congregated,  and  enraged  villains  of  the 
whole  commonwealth. 

9.  He  demanded  their  purpose  in  thus  coming  together 
with  arms,  in  violation  of  the  prison  laws.     They  replied 
that  they  were  determined  to  obtain  the  remission  of  the 
punishment  of  their  three  comrades.     He  said  it  was  im- 
possible ;  the  rules  of  the  prison  must  be  obeyed,  and  they 
must  submit. 

10.  At  the  hint  of  submission  they  drew  a  little  nearer 
together,  prepared  their  weapons  for  service,  and,  as  they 
were  dimly  seen  in  the  further  end  of  the  hall  by  those 
who  observed  from  the  gratings  that  opened  up  to  the  day, 
a  more  appalling  sight  can  not  be  conceived,  nor  one  of 
more  moral  grandeur,  than  that  of  the  single  man  stand- 
ing within  their  grasp,  and  exposed  to  be  torn  limb  from 
limb  instantly  if  a  word  or  look  should  add  to  the  already 
intense  excitement. 

11.  That  excitement,  too,  was  of  a  most  dangerous  kind. 
It  broke  not  forth  in  noise  and  imprecations,  but  was  seen 
only  in  the  dark  looks  and  the  strained  nerves  that  showed 


140  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

a  deep  determination.  The  officer  expostulated.  He  re- 
minded them  of  the  hopelessness  of  escape ;  that  the  town 
was  alarmed,  and  that  the  government  of  the  prison  would 
submit  to  nothing  but  unconditional  surrender.  He  said 
that  all  those  who  would  go  quietly  away  should  be  for- 
given for  this  offense;  but  that  if  every  prisoner  were 
killed  in  the  contest,  power  enough  would  be  obtained  to 
enforce  the  regulations  of  the  prison. 

12.  They  replied  that  they  expected  that  some  would 
be  killed, — that  death  would  be  better  than  such  imprison- 
ment; and,  with  that  look  and  tone  which  bespeak  an  in- 
domitable purpose,  they  declared  that  not  a  man  should 
leave  the  hall  alive  till  the  flogging  was  remitted.     At 
this  period  of  the  discussion  their  evil  passions  seemed  to 
be  more  inflamed,  and  one  or  two  offered  to  destroy  the 
officer,  who  still  stood  firmer  and  with  a  more  temperate 
pulse  than  did  his  friends,  who  saw  from  above,  but  could 
not  avert,  the  danger  that  threatened  him. 

13.  Just  at  this  moment,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes 
from  the  commencement  of  the  tumult,  the  officer  saw  the 
feet  of  the  marines,  on  whose  presence  alone  he  relied  for 
succor,  filing  by  the  small  upper  lights.     Without  any  appar- 
ent anxiety,  he  had  repeatedly  turned  his  attention  to  their 
approach ;  and  now  he  knew  that  it  was  his  only  time  to 
escape,  before  the  conflict  became,  as  was  expected,  one  of 
the  most  dark  and  dreadful  in  the  world. 

14.  He  stepped  slowly  backward,  still  urging  them  to 
depart  before  the  officers  were  driven  to  use  the  last  resort 
of  firearms.    When  within  three  or  four  feet  of  the  door, 
it  was  opened,  and  closed  instantly  again  as  he  sprang 
through,  and  was  thus  unexpectedly  restored  to  his  friends. 

15.  Major  Wainright  was  requested  to  order  his  men  to 
fire  down  upon  the  convicts  through  the  little  windows,  first 
with  powder  and  then  with  ball,  till  they  were  willing  to 
retreat;  but  he  took  a  wiser  as  well  as  a  bolder  course, 
relying  upon  the  effect  which  firm  determination  would  have 


FIFTH   READER.  141 

upon  men  so  critically  situated.  He  ordered  the  door  to 
be  again  opened,  and  marched  in  at  the  head  of  twenty  or 
thirty  men,  who  filed  through  the  passage,  and  formed  at 
the  end  of  the  hall  opposite  to  the  crowd  of  criminals  hud- 
dled together  at  the  other. 

16.  He  stated  that  he  was  empowered  to  quell  the  re- 
bellion, that  he  wished  to  avoid  shedding  blood,  but  that 
he  would  not  quit  that  hall  alive  till  every  convict  had 
returned  to  his  duty.     They  seemed  balancing  the  strength 
of  the  two  parties,  and  replied  that  some  of  them  were 
ready  to  die,  and  only  waited  for  an  attack  to  see  which 
was  the  more  powerful ;  swearing  that  they  would  fight  to 
the  last,  unless  the  punishment  was  remitted,  for  they  would 
not  submit  to  any  such  punishment  in  the  prison.     Major 
Wainright  ordered  his  marines  to  load  their  pieces,  and, 
that  they  might  not  be  suspected  of  trifling,  each  man  was 
made  to  hold  up  to  view  the  bullet  which  he  afterward 
put  in  his  gun. 

17.  This  only  caused  a  growl  of  determination,  and  no 
one  blenched  or  seemed  disposed  to  shrink  from  the  fore- 
most exposure.     They  knew  that  their  number  would  enable 
them  to  bear  down  and  destroy  the  handful  of  marines 
after  the  first  discharge,  and  before  their  pieces  could  be 
reloaded.     Again  they  were  ordered  to  retire;  but  they 
answered  with  more  ferocity  than  ever.     The  marines  were 
ordered  to  take  their  aim  so  as  to  be  sure  and  kill  as 
many  as  possible.     Their  guns  were  presented,  but  not  a 
prisoner  stirred,  except  to  grasp  more  firmly  his  weapon. 

18.  Still  desirous  to  avoid  such  a  tremendous  slaughter 
as  must  have  followed  the  discharge  of  a  single  gun,  Major 
Wainright  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  spoke  even  more 
firmly  than  before,  urging  them  to   depart.     Again,  and 
while  looking  directly  into  the  muzzles  of  the  guns  which 
they  had  seen  loaded  with  ball,  they  declared  their  inten- 
tion "  to  fight  it  out."     This  intrepid  officer  then  took  out 
his  watch,  and  told  his  men  to  hold  their  pieces  aimed  at 


142  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

the  convicts,  but  not  to  fire  till  they  had  orders;  then, 
turning  to  the  prisoners,  he  said:  "You  must  leave  this 
hall ;  I  give  you  three  minutes  to  decide ;  if  at  the  end  of 
that  time  a  man  remains,  he  shall  be  shot  dead." 

19.  No  situation  of  greater  interest  than  this  can  be  con- 
ceived.    At  one  end  of  the  hall,  a  fearful  multitude  of  the 
most  desperate  and  powerful  men  in  existence,  waiting  for 
the  assault ;  at  the  other,  a  little  band  of  disciplined  men, 
waiting  with  arms  presented,  and  ready,  upon   the  least 
motion  or  sign,  to  begin  the  carnage;   and  their  tall  and 
imposing  commander,  holding  up  his  watch  to  count  the 
lapse  of  three  minutes,  given  as  the  reprieve  to  the  lives 
of  hundreds.    No  poet  or  painter  can  conceive  a  spectacle 
of  more  dark  and  terrible  sublimity;  no  human  heart  can 
conceive  a  situation  of  more  appalling  suspense. 

20.  For  two  minutes  not  a  person  nor  a  muscle  moved ; 
not  a  sound  was  heard  in  the  unwonted  stillness  of  the 
prison,   except  the  labored  breathings   of  the    infuriated 
wretches,  as  they  began  to  pant  between  fear  and  revenge  : 
at  the  expiration  of  two  minutes,  during  which  they  had 
faced  the  ministers  of  death  with  unblenching  eyes,  two 
or  three  of  those  in  the   rear,  and  nearest  the  further 
entrance,  went  slowly  out ;  a  few  more  followed  the  exam- 
ple, dropping  out  quietly  and  deliberately :  and  before  half 
of  the  last  minute  was  gone,  every  man  was  struck  by  the 
panic,  and  crowded  for  an  exit,  and  the  hall  was  cleared, 
as  if  by  magic. 

21.  Thus  the  steady  firmness  of  moral  force  and  the 
strong  effect  of  determination,   acting  deliberately,  awed 
the  most  savage  men,  and  suppressed  a  scene  of  carnage, 
which  would  have  instantly  followed  the  least  precipitancy 
or  exertion  of  physical  force. 

—  J.  T.  Buckingham. 

•*  It  may  be  that  more  lofty  courage  dwells 

In  one  weak  heart  which  braves  an  adverse  fate 
Than  does  in  his  whose  soul  indignant  swells, 
Warmed  by  the  fight,  or  cheered  through  high  debate." 


READER.  143 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Ward'en,  a  keeper,  one  who  guards.  4.  En- 
eroach'ment,  unlawful  intrusion  on  the  rights  of  others.  Brig'andg, 
robbers,  those  who  live  by  plunder.  5.  Mot'ley,  composed  of  various 
colors.  De-mo'ni-ae,  devil-like.  6.  Sub-or'di-nate,  inferior  in  power. 
7.  Ma-rines',  soldiers  that  serve  on  board  of  ships.  De-mean'or,  be- 
havior,  deportment.  8.  Par'ley,  conversation  or  conference  with  an 
enemy.  9.  Re-mis'sion  (pro.  re-mlsh'un),  pardon  of  transgression* 
11.  Im-pre-ea'tions,  curses,  prayers  for  evil.  Ex-pos'tu-lat-ed,  rea- 
soned earnestly.  12.  In-dom'i-ta-ble,  that  can  not  be  subdued  or 
tamed.  17.  Blenched,  gave  way,  shrunk.  18.  In-trep'id,  fearless. 
19.  Re-prieve',  a  delay  of  punishment.  21.  Pre-^ip'i-tan-^y,  headlong 
hurry. 


XLH.    FAITHLESS  NELLY  GRAY. 

Thomas  Hood  (6.  1798,  d.  1845)  was  the  son  of  a  London  bookseller. 
After  leaving  school  he  undertook  to  learn  the  art  of  an  engraver,  but 
soon  turned  his  attention  to  literature.  In  1821  he  became  sub-editor 
of  the  "London  Magazine."  Hood  is  best  known  as  a  humorist;  but 
some  of  his  poems  are  full  of  the  tendcrest  pathos ;  and  a  gentle,  humane 
spirit  pervades  even  his  lighter  productions.  He  was  poor,  and  during 
the  last  years  of  his  life  suffered  much  from  ill  health.  Some  of  his 
most  humorous  pieces  were  written  on  a  sick  bed. 

1.  BEN  BATTLE  was  a  soldier  bold, 

And  used  to  war's  alarms; 
But  a  cannon  ball  took  off  his  legs, 
So  he  laid  down  his  arms! 

2.  Now,  as  they  bore  him  off  the  field, 

Said  he,  "Let  others  shoot, 
For  here  I  leave  my  second  leg, 
And  the  Forty-second  Foot!" 

3.  The  army  surgeons  made  him  limbs; 

Said  he,  "They're  only  pegs: 
But  there's  as  wooden  members  quite, 
As  represent  my  legs!" 


144  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

4.  Now  Ben,  lie  loved  a  pretty  maid, 

Her  name  was  Nelly  Gray; 
So  he  went  to  pay  her  his  devoirs, 
When  he'd  devoured  his  pay. 

6.   But  when  he  called  on  Nelly  Gray, 

She  made  him  quite  a  scoff; 
And  when  she  saw  his  wooden  legs, 
Began  to  take  them  off! 

6.   "0  Nelly  Gray!   0  Nelly  Gray! 

Is  this  your  love  so  warm? 
The  love  that  loves  a  scarlet  coat 
Should  be  more  uniform!" 


7.  Said  she,  "I  loved  a  soldier  once, 

For  he  was  blithe  and  brave; 
But  I  will  never  have  a  man 
With  both  legs  in  the  grave! 

8.  "Before  you  had  these  timber  toes, 

Your  love  I  did  allow, 
But  then,  you  know,  you  stand  upon 
Another  footing  now ! " 

9.  "0  false  and  fickle  Nelly  Gray! 

I  know  why  you  refuse: 
Though  I've  no  feet  —  some  other  man 
Is  standing  in  my  shoes! 

10.   "I  wish  I  ne'er  had  seen  your  face; 

But,  now,  a  long  farewell! 
For  you  will  be  my  death;  —  alas! 
You  will  not  be  my  NELL!" 


FIFTH   READER.  145 

11.  Now  when  he  went  from  Nelly  Gray, 

His  heart  so  heavy  got, 
And  life  was  such  a  burden  grown, 
It  made  him  take  a  knot! 

12.  So  round  his  melancholy  neck, 

A  rope  he  did  entwine, 
And  for  the  second  time  in  life, 
Enlisted  in  the  Line! 


13.   One  end  he  tied  around  a  beam, 

And  then  removed  his  pegs, 
And,  as  his  legs  were  off,  of  course 
He  soon  was  off  his  legs. 


14.   And  there  he  hung  till  he  was  dead 

As  any  nail  in  town: 
For,  though  distress  had  cut  him  up, 
It  could  not  cut  him  down! 


DEFINITIONS.  —  4.  De-voirs'  (French,  pro.  de-vw6r'),  respects, 
compliments.  5.  Seoff,  an  object  of  ridicule.  6.  U'ni-form  (adj.), 
consistent,  (noun)  military  dress.  7.  Blithe,  me~ry,  gay. 

NOTES.  —  2.  Forty-second  Foot.  Infantry  in  the  army  is  spoken 
of  as  "  the  foot,"  and  the  "  Forty-second  Foot "  means  the  Forty- 
second  Regiment  of  Infantry. 

3.  Members.  Persons  elected  to  Parliament  in  Great  Britain 
are  called  "  Members,"  and  are  said  to  represent  those  who  elect 
them. 

12.  The  Line  is  another  name  for  the  regular  infantry. 


(6.-10.) 


)46  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


XLIII.     THE  GENEROUS   RUSSIAN  PEASANT. 

1.  LET    Vergil    sing    the    praises    of   Augustus,   genius 
celebrate   merit,    and    flattery   extol    the    talents    of    the 
great.      "The    short    and    simple    annals    of    the    poor" 
engross  my  pen ;    and  while  I  record  the  history  of  Flor 
Silin's   virtues,  though  I  speak  of  a  poor  peasant,  I  shall 
describe  a  noble  man.      I  ask  no  eloquence  to  assist  me 
in  the  task ;  modest  worth  rejects  the  aid  of  ornament  to 
set  it  off. 

2.  It  is  impossible,  even  at  this  distant  period,  to  reflect 
without  horror  on  the  miseries  of  that  year  known  in  Lower 
Volga  by  the  name  of  the  "Famine  Year/'     I   remember 
the  summer,  whose  scorching  heats  had  dried  up   all  the 
fields,  and  the  drought  had  no  relief  but  from  the  tears  of 
the  ruined  farmer. 

3.  I  remember  the   cold,  comfortless   autumn,  and  the 
despairing  rustics,  crowding  round  their  empty  barns,  with 
folded  arms  and  sorrowful  countenances,  pondering  on  their 
misery,  instead  of   rejoicing,  as  usual,  at  the  golden  har- 
vest.    I  remember  the  winter  which  succeeded,  and  I  re- 
flect with   agony   on    the    miseries    it    brought    with    it. 
Whole  families  left  their  homes  to  become  beggars  on  the 
highway. 

4.  At  night  the  canopy  of  heaven  served  them  as  their 
only  shelter  from  the  piercing  winds  and  bitter  frost.     To 
describe  these  scenes  would  be  to  harm  the  feelings  of  my 
readers  ;  therefore,  to  my  tale.     In  those  days  I  lived  on  an 
estate  not  far  from  Simbirsk;  and,  though  but  a  child,  I 
have  not  forgotten  the  impression  made  on  my  mind  by  the 
general  calamity. 

5.  In  a  village  adjoining  lived  Flor  Silin,  a  poor,  labor 
ing  peasant,  —  a  man  remarkable  for  his  assiduity  and  the 
ski)i   and  judgment  with  which   he   cultivated  his   lands. 
He  was  blessed  with  abundant  crops ;  and  his  means  being 


FIFTH   READER.  147 

larger  than  his  wants,  his  granaries,  even  at  this  time,  were 
full  of  corn.  The  dry  year  coming  on  had  beggared  all  the 
village  except  himself.  Here  was  an  opportunity  to  grow 
rich.  Mark  how  Flor  Silin  acted.  Having  called  the 
poorest  of  his  neighbors  about  him,  he  addressed  them  in 
the  following  manner : 

6.  "My  friends,   you  want  corn   for   your   subsistence. 
God  has  blessed  me  with  abundance.     Assist  in  thrashing1 
out  a  quantity,  and  each  of  you  take  what  he  wants  for  his 
family."     The  peasants  were  amazed  at  this  unexampled 
generosity;  for  sordid  propensities  exist  in  the  village  as 
well  as  in  the  populous  city. 

7.  The  fame  of  Flor  Silin's  benevolence  having  reached 
other  villages,  the  famished  inhabitants  presented  them- 
selves before  him,  and  begged  for  corn.     This  good  creature 
received  them  as  brothers ;  and,  while  his  store  remained, 
afforded  all  relief.     At  length,  his  wife,  seeing  no  end  to 
the  generosity  of  his  noble  spirit,  reminded  him  how  neces- 
sary it  would  be  to  think  of  their  own  wants,  and  hold  his 
lavish  hand  before  it  was  too  late.     "It  is  written  in  the 
Scripture,"  said  he,  "'Give,  and  it  shall  be  given  unto 
you.7" 

8.  The  following  year  Providence  listened  to  the  prayers 
of  the  poor,  and  the  harvest  was  abundant.     The  peasants 
who  had  been   saved  from  starving  by   Flor   Silin   now 
gathered  around  him. 

9.  "Behold,"  said  they,  "the  corn  you  lent  us.     You 
saved  our  wives  and  children.     We  should  have  been  fam- 
ished but  for  you  ;  may  God  reward  you ;  he  only  can ;  all 
we  have  to  give  is  our  corn  and   grateful  thanks."     "I 
want  no  corn  at  present,   my  good  neighbors,"  said  he; 
"  my  harvest  has  exceeded  all  my  expectations ;   for  the 
rest,  thank  heaven:    I  have  been  but  an  humble  instru- 
ment." 

10.  They  urged  him  in  vain.     "No,"  said  he,  "I   shall 
not  accept  your  corn.     If  you  have  superfluities,  share  them 


148  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

among  your  poor  neighbors,  who,  being  unable  to  sow  their 
fields  last  autumn,  are  still  in  want ;  let  us  assist  them,  my 
dear  friends ;  the  Almighty  will  bless  us  for  it."  "  Yes," 
replied  the  grateful  peasants,  "our  poor  neighbors  shall 
have  this  corn.  They  shall  know  it  is  to  you  that  they 
owe  this  timely  succor,  and  join  to  teach  their  children  the 
debt  of  gratitude  due  to  your  benevolent  heart."  Silin 
raised  his  tearful  eyes  to  heaven.  An  angel  might  have 
envied  him  his  feelings.  _  NMai  Karamzin. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ex-tol',  to  elevate  by  praise.  An'nals,  history 
of  events.  En-gross',  to  occupy  wholly.  El'o-quen9e,  the  power  of 
speaking  well.  2.  Drought  (pro.  drout),  want  of  rain  or  water. 
4.  Es-tate',  property  in  land.  5.  Gran'a-ry,  a  storehouse  for  grain. 
6.  Sub-sist'en9e,  means  of  support.  Pro-pen'si-ties,  bent  of  mind, 
inclination.  10.  Su-per-flu'i-ties,  greater  quantities  than  are  wanted. 
Sue'eor,  aid,  help. 

NOTES.  —  1.  Vergil  was  the  greatest  of  Roman  poets.  He  was 
born  in  the  year  70  B.C.,  and  died  19  B.C. 

Augustus  Ccesar  was  emperor  of  Rome  in  the  latter  portion 
of  Vergil's  life,  and  received  many  compliments  in  the  verses 
of  his  friend  the  poet. 

2.  Lower  Volga  is  a  district  in  eastern  Russia,  bordering  on 
the  Caspian  Sea,  and  takes  its  name  from  the  river  Volga. 

4.    Simbirsk  is  a  town  of  eastern  Russia,  on  the  Volga. 


XLIV.     FORTY   YEARS   AGO. 

1.   I'VE  wandered  to  the  village,  Tom, 

I've  sat  beneath  the  tree, 
Upon  the  schoolhouse  playground, 

That  sheltered  you  and  me; 
But  none  were  left  to  greet  me,  Tom, 

And  few  were  left  to  know, 
Who  played  with  me  upon  the  green, 

Just  forty  years  ago. 


FIFTH    READER. 


149 


2.  The  grass  was  just  as  green,  Tom, 

Barefooted  boys  at  play 
Were  sporting,  just  as  we  did  then, 

With  spirits  just  as  gay. 
But  the  master  sleeps  upon  the  hill, 

Which,  coated  o'er  with  snow, 
Afforded  us  a  sliding  place, 

Some  forty  years  ago. 

3.  The  old  schoolhouse  is  altered  some; 

The  benches  are  replaced 
By  new  ones  very  like  the  same 

Our  jackknives  had  defaced. 
But  the  same  old  bricks  are  in  the  wall, 

The  bell  swings  to  and  fro; 
Its  music's  just  the  same,  dear  Tom, 

'Twas  forty  years  ago. 


150  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  The  spring  that  bubbled  'neath  the  hill, 

Close  by  the  spreading  beech, 
Is  very  low ;  't  was  once  so  high 

That  we  could  almost  reach; 
And  kneeling  down  to  take  a  drink, 

Dear  Tom,  I  started  so, 
To  think  how  very  much  I  Ve  changed 

Since  forty  years  ago. 

5.  Near  by  that  spring,  upon  an  elm, 

You  know,  I  cut  your  name, 
Your  sweetheart's  just  beneath  it,  Tom; 

And  you  did  mine  the  same. 
Some  heartless  wretch  has  peeled  the  barkj 

'Twas  dying  sure,  but  slow, 
Just  as  that  one  whose  name  you  cut 

Died  forty  years  ago. 

6.  My  lids  have  long  been  dry,  Tom, 

But  tears  came  in  my  eyes: 
I  thought  of  her  I  loved  so  well, 

Those  early  broken  ties. 
I  visited  the  old  churchyard, 

And  took  some  flowers  to  strew 
Upon  the  graves  of  those  we  loved 

Just  forty  years  ago. 

7.  Some  are  in  the  churchyard  laid, 

Some  sleep  beneath  the  sea; 
And  none  are  left  of  our  old  class 

Excepting  you  and  me. 
And  when  our  time  shall  come,  Tom, 

And  we  are  called  to  go, 
I  hope  we'll  meet  with  those  we  loved 

Some  forty  years  ago. 


FIFTB    READER.  151 


XLV.    MRS.  CAUDLE'S  LECTURE. 

Douglas  Jerrold  (6. 1803,  d.  1857)  was  born  in  London.  A  midship- 
man's appointment  was  obtained  for  him,  but  he  quit  the  naval  service 
in  a  few  years.  He  was  then  apprenticed  to  a  printer.  By  improving  his 
leisure  hours  he  made  himself  master  of  several  languages,  and  formed 
the  habit  of  expressing  his  thoughts  in  writing  An  essay  on  the  opera 
of  Der  Freischutz  was  his  first  published  literary  production.  Before  he 
was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  he  wrote  "  Black-eyed  Susan,"  one  of  the 
most  popular  dramas  of  modern  times.  Several  other  popular  plays 
followed  this.  He  was  a  regular  contributor  to  the  London  "  Punch," 
from  the  second  number,  and  edited,  at  different  times,  several  papers 
and  magazines.  As  a  humorist,  he  occupies  the  first  rank.  The  most 
noted  of  his  works  are  his  plays,  and  "  Mrs  Caudle's  Curtain  Lectures," 
"  Saint  Giles  and  Saint  James,"  "  Bubbles  of  a  Day,"  and  "  Chronicles  of 
Clovernook." 

1.  WELL,  Mr.  Caudle,  I  hope  you're  in  a  little  better 
temper  than  you  were  this  morning.     There,  you  needn't 
begin  to  whistle :   people   don't  come  to  bed  to  whistle. 
But  it's   like  you;   I   can't  speak  that  you  don't  try  to 
insult  me.     Once,  I  used  to  say  you  were  the  best  creature 
living :  now,  you  get  quite  a  fiend.     Do  let  you  rest  ?     No, 
I  won't  let  you  rest.     It 's  the  only  time  I  have  to  talk  to 
you,  and  you  shall  hear  me.     I  'm  put  upon  all  day  long : 
it 's  very  hard  if  I  can't  speak  a  word  at  night ;  besides,  it 
is  n't  often  I  open  my  mouth,  goodness  knows ! 

2.  Because  once  in  your  lifetime  your  shirt  wanted  a 
button,  you  must   almost   swear  the  roof  off  the  house. 
You   did  n't  swear  ?      Ha,   Mr.    Caudle !   you   don't  know 
what  you  do  when  you're  in  a  passion.      You  were  not 
in  a  passion,   wer'n't  you?      Well,   then,   I   don't  know 
what   a  passion  is;   and  I  think  I   ought  by  this  time. 
I've  lived  long  enough  with  you,  Mr.   Caudle,  to  know 
that. 

3.  It 's  a  pity  you  hav'n't  something  worse  to  complain 
of  than  a  button  off  your  shirt.      If  you'd  some  wives, 
you  would,  I  know.     I  'm  sure  I  'm  never  without  a  needle 
and   thread  in   my  hand ;   what  with  you  and  the   chil- 
dren,  I'm    made   a  perfect    slave  of.      And  what's  my 


152  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

thanks?  Why,  if  once  in  your  life  a  button's  off  your 
shirt  —  what  do  you  cry  "  oh  "  at  ?  I  say  once,  Mr.  Caudle ; 
or  twice,  or  three  times,  at  most.  I'm  sure,  Caudle,  no 
man's  buttons  in  the  world  are  better  looked  after  than 
yours.  I  only  wish  I'd  kept  the  shirts  you  had  when 
you  were  first  married!  I  should  like  to  know  where 
were  your  buttons  then  ? 

4.  Yes,  it  is  worth  talking  of!      But  that's   how  you 
always  try  to  put  me  down.      You  fly  into  a  rage,  and 
then  if  I  only  try  to  speak,  you  won't  hear  me.     That's 
how  you  men  always  will  have  all  the  talk  to  yourselves : 
a  poor  woman  is  n't  allowed  to  get  a  word  in.     A  nice 
notion  you  have  of  a  wife,  to  suppose  she's  nothing  to 
think  of  but  her  husband's   buttons.      A  pretty  notion, 
indeed,  you  have  of  marriage.      Ha!  if  poor  women  only 
knew  what  they  had  to  go  through !  —  what  with  buttons, 
and  one  thing  and  another,  —  they'd  never  tie  themselves 
up,  —  no,  not  to  the  best  man  in  the  world,  I'm   sure. 
What  Would  they  do,  Mr.  Caudle?  — Why,  do  much  bet- 
ter without  you,  I  'm  certain. 

5.  And  it 's  my  belief,  after  all,  that  the  button  was  n't 
off  the  shirt;  it's  my  belief  that  you  pulled  it  off  that 
you  might  have  something   to  talk   about.      Oh,   you're 
aggravating  enough,  when   you   like,  for  anything!      All 
I  know  is,  it's  very  odd  that  the  button   should  be   off 
the   shirt;   for   I'm  sure  no  woman's   a  greater  slave  to 
her  husband's  buttons  than   I  am.     I  only  say  it's  very 
odd. 

6.  However,   there's   one   comfort;    it   can't    last   long. 
I  'm  worn  to  death  with  your  temper,  and  sha'  n't  trouble 
you  a  great  while.      Ha!  you  may  laugh!      And  I  dare 
say  you  would  laugh!      I've   no   doubt  of   it!       That's 
your  love;  that's  your  feeling!      I  know  that  I'm  sink- 
ing every  day,  though  I  say  nothing  about  it.     And  when 
I  'm  gone  we  shall  see  how  your  second  wife  will   look 
after  your  buttons!      You'll  find  out  the  difference  then. 


FIFTH    READER.  153 

Yes,  Caudle,  you  '11  think  of  me  then ;  for  then,  I  hope, 
you  '11  never  have  a  blessed  button  to  your  back. 

7.  No,  I  'm   not  a  vindictive  woman,  Mr.    Caudle :   no- 
body ever  called  me  that  but  you.     What  do  you  say? 
Nobody  ever  kneiv  so  much  of  me  ?    That 's  nothing  at  all 
to  do  with  it.     Ha!    I  wouldn't  have  your  aggravating 
temper,   Caudle,   for  mines   of  gold.      It's   a  good  thing 
I  'm  not  as  worrying  as  you  are,  or  a  nice  house  there  'd 
be  between  us.     I  only  wish  you  'd  had  a  wife  that  would 
have  talked  to  you!     Then  you'd  have  known  the  differ- 
ence.    But  you  impose  upon  me  because,  like  a  poor  fool, 
I  say  nothing.     I  should  be  ashamed  of  myself,  Caudle. 

8.  And  a  pretty  example  you  set  as  a  father !     You  '11 
make  your  boys  as  bad  as  yourself.     Talking  as  you  did 
all  breakfast  time  about  your  buttons !  and  of  a  Sunday 
morning,   too !      And   you  call    yourself  a  Christian !     I 
should  like  to  know  what  your  boys  will  say  of  you  when 
they  grow  up !     And  all  about  a  paltry  button  off  one  of 
your    wristbands !     A  decent   man  would  n't    have   men- 
tioned it.      Why  don't  I  hold  my  tongue  ?    Because  I  won't 
hold  my  tongue.     I  'm  to  have  my  peace  of  mind  destroyed 
—  1 7m  to  be  worried  into  my  grave  for  a  miserable  shirt 
button,  and  I  'm  to  hold  my  tongue !     Oh !  but  that 's  just 
like  you  men ! 

9.  But   I   know   what   I'll   do   for  the   future.     Every 
button  you  have  may  drop  off,  and  I  won't  so  much  as 
put  a  thread  to  'em.     And  I  should  like  to  know  what 
you  '11  do  then !     Oh,  you  must  get  somebody  else  to  sew  'era, 
must  you  ?     That 's  a  pretty  threat  for  a  husband  to  hold 
out  to  his  wife !     And  to  such  a  wife  as  I  've  been,  too : 
such  a  slave  to  your  buttons,  as  I  may  say.     Somebody  else 
to  sew  }em  ?    No,  Caudle,  no ;  not  while  I  'm  alive  !     When 
I'm   dead  —  and,  with  what  I  have   to  bear,  there's   no 
knowing  how  soon  that  may  be  —  when  I  'm  dead,  I  say  — 
oh !  what  a  brute  you  must  be  to  snore  so ! 

10.  You  're  not  snoring  ?    Ha !  that 's  what  you  always 


154  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

say ;  but  that 's  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  must  get 
somebody  else  to  sew  'em,  must  you?  Ha!  I  shouldn't 
wonder.  Oh,  no !  I  should  be  surprised  at  nothing  now  ! 
Nothing  at  all !  It 's  what  people  have  always  told  me  it 
would  come  to ;  and  now  the  buttons  have  opened  my  eyes  ! 
But  the  whole  world  shall  know  of  your  cruelty,  Mr. 
Caudle.  After  the  wife  I  've  been  to  you.  Caudle,  you  've 
a  heart  like  a  hearthstone,  you  have ! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  5.  Ag'gra-vat-ing,  provoking,  irritating.  6.  Sink'- 
ing,  failing  in  strength.  7.  Vin-die'tive,  revengeful.  8.  Pal'try,  mean, 
contemptible. 


XL VI.     THE   VILLAGE   BLACKSMITH. 

1.  UNDER  a  spreading  chestnut  tree 

The  village  smithy  stands; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 

With  large  and  sinewy  hands; 
And  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  arms 

Are  strong  as  iron  bands. 

2.  His  hair  is  crisp,  and  black,  and  long, 

His  face  is  like  the  tan; 
His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat, 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can, 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

For  he  owes  not  any  man. 

3.  Week  in,  week  out,  from  morn  till  night, 

You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow; 
You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 

With  measured  beat  and  slow, 
Like  a  sexton  ringing  the  village  bell, 

When  the  evening  sun  is  low. 


FIFTH    READER.  155 

4.  And  children  coming  home  from  school 

Look  in  at  the  open  door; 
They  love  to  see  the  naming  forge, 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly 

Like  chaff  from  a  threshing  floor. 

5.  He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach, 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice 
Singing  in  the  village  choir, 

And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 

6.  It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice 

Singing  in  Paradise! 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more, 

How  in  the  grave  she  lies; 
And  with  his  hard,  rough  hand  he  wipes 

A  tear  out  of  his  eyes. 

7.  Toiling,  rejoicing,  sorrowing, 

Onward  through  life  he  goes ; 
Each  morning  sees  some  task  begin, 

Each  evening  sees  its  close ; 
Something  attempted,  something  done, 

Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 

8.  Thanks,  thanks  to  thee,  my  worthy  friend, 

For  the  lesson  thou  hast  taught! 
Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life 

Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought; 
Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 

Each  burning  deed  and  thought! 

—  LongfeUow. 


156  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


XL VII.     THE   RELIEF    OF   LUCKNOW. 

[From  a  letter  to  the  "London  Times,"  by  a  lady,  the  wife  of  an 
officer  at  Lucknow.] 

1.  ON  every  side  death,  stared  us  in  the  face ;  no  human 
skill   could  avert  it  any   longer.      We   saw  the   moment 
approach  when  we  must  bid  farewell  to  earth,  yet  without 
feeling    that  unutterable  horror  which    must   have   been 
experienced  by  the   unhappy  victims   at   Cawnpore.     We 
were  resolved  rather  to  die  than  to  yield,  and  were  fully 
persuaded  that  in  twenty-four  hours   all  would  be  over. 
The  engineer  had  said  so,  and  all  knew  the  worst.     We 
women  strove   to  encourage   each  other,  and  to  perform 
the  light  duties  which  had  been  assigned  to  us,  such  as 
conveying  orders  to  the  batteries,  and  supplying  the  men 
with  provisions,  especially  cups  of  coffee,  which  we  pre- 
pared day  and  night. 

2.  I  had  gone  out  to  try  to  make   myself  useful,  in. 
company  with  Jessie   Brown,  the  wife   of   a  corporal  in 
my  husband's  regiment.     Poor  Jessie  had  been  in  a  state 
of  restless  excitement  all  through  the  siege,  and  had  fallen 
away  visibly  within  the  last  few  days.     A  constant  fever 
consumed  her,  and  her  mind  wandered  occasionally,  espe- 
cially that  day,  when  the  recollections  of  home   seemed 
powerfully  present  to  her.     At  last,  overcome  with  fatigue, 
she  lay  down  on  the   ground,  wrapped  up  in  her  plaid. 
I  sat  beside  her,  promising  to  awaken  her  when,  as  she 
said,  her  "  father  should  return  from  the  plowing." 

3.  She  fell  at  length  into  a  profound  slumber,  motionless 
and  apparently  breathless,  her  head  resting  in  my  lap.     I 
myself  could  no  longer  resist  the  inclination  to  sleep,  in 
spite  of  the   continual   roar   of  the   cannon.     Suddenly  I 
was  aroused  by  a  wild,  unearthly  scream  close  to  my  ear ; 
my  companion  stood  upright  beside  me,  her  arms  raised, 
and  her  head  bent  forward  in  the  attitude  of  listening. 


FIFTH   READER.  157 

4.  A  look  of  intense  delight  broke  over  her  countenance ; 
she  grasped  my  hand,  drew  me  toward  her,  and  exclaimed : 
"  Dinna  ye  hear  it  ?  dinna  ye  hear  it  ?    Ay.     I  'm  no  dream- 
ing:  it's  the  slogan  o'  the  Highlanders!     We're  saved! 
we're  saved!"     Then  flinging  herself  on  her  knees,  she 
thanked   God  with  passionate  fervor.     I  felt  utterly  be- 
wildered;   my  English  ears   heard  only   the  roar  of  ar- 
tillery, and  I  thought  my  poor  Jessie  was   still   raving; 
but  she  darted  to  the  batteries,  and  I  heard  her  cry  in- 
cessantly to  the  men,  "  Courage !  courage !     Hark  to  the 
slogan — to  the  Macgregor,  the  grandest  of  them  a ' !     Here 's 
help  at  last ! " 

5.  To  describe  the  effect  of  these  words  upon  the  soldiers 
would  be  impossible.     For  a  moment  they  ceased  firing, 
and  every  soul  listened  with  intense  anxiety.     Gradually, 
however,  there  arose  a  murmur  of  bitter  disappointment, 
and  the  wailing  of  the  women,  who  had  flocked  to  the 
spot,  burst  out  anew  as  the  colonel  shook  his  head.     Our 
dull  Lowland  ears  heard  only  the  rattle  of  the  musketry. 
A  few  moments  more  of  this  deathlike  suspense,  of  this 
agonizing  hope,  and  Jessie,  who  had  again  sunk  on  the 
ground,  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  cried  in  a  voice  so  clear 
and  piercing  that  it  was  heard  along  the  whole  line,  "  Will 
ye  no  believe  it  noo  ?     The  slogan  has  ceased,  indeed,  but 
the  Campbells  are  comin' !     D'  ye  hear  ?  d'  ye  hear  ?  " 

6.  At  that  moment  all  seemed  indeed  to  hear  the  voice 
of  God  in  the  distance,  when  the  pibroch  of  the  High- 
landers brought  us  tidings  of  deliverance;  for  now  there 
was  no  longer  any  doubt  of  the  fact.     That  shrill,  pene- 
trating, ceaseless  sound,  which  rose  above  all  other  sounds, 
could  come  neither  from  the  advance  of  the  enemy  nor. 
from   the  work   of  the   sappers.     No,  it  was   indeed  the 
blast  of  the  Scottish  bagpipes,  now  shrill  and  harsh,  as 
threatening   vengeance   on  the  foe,  then  in  softer  tones, 
seeming  to  promise  succor  to  their  friends  in  need. 

7.  Never,  surely,  was  there  such  a  scene  as  that  which 


158  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

followed.  Not  a  heart  in  the  residency  of  Lucknow  but 
bowed  itself  before  God.  All,  by  one  simultaneous  im- 
pulse, fell  upon  their  knees,  and  nothing  was  heard  but 
bursting  sobs  and  the  murmured  voice  of  prayer.  Then 
all  arose,  and  there  rang  out  from  a  thousand  lips  a  great 
shout  of  joy,  which  resounded  far  and  wide,  and  lent  new 
vigor  to  that  blessed  pibroch. 

8.  To  our  cheer  of  "  God  save  the  Queen/'  they  replied 
by  the  well-known  strain  that  moves  every  Scot  to  tears, 
"Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot."  After  that,  noth- 
ing else  made  any  impression  on  me.  I  scarcely  remem- 
ber what  followed.  Jessie  was  presented  to  the  general 
on  his  entrance  into  the  fort,  and  at  the  officers'  banquet 
her  health  was  drunk  by  all  present,  while  the  pipers 
marched  around  the  table  playing  once  more  the  familiar 
air  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  A-vert/,  to  turn  aside.  En-gi-neer',  an  officer 
in  the  army,  who  designs  and  constructs  defensive  and  offensive  works. 
2.  Siege,  the  setting  of  an  army  around  a  fortified  place  to  compel  its 
surrender.  3.  Profound',  deep.  4.  Slo'gan,  the  war  cry  or  gather- 
ing word  of  a  Highland  clan  in  Scotland.  Fer'vor,  intensity  of  feel- 
ing. 6.  Pi'broeh,  a  wild,  irregular  species  of  music  belonging  to  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland;  it  is  performed  on  a  bagpipe.  Sap'pers,  men 
employed  in  making  an  approach  to  a  fortified  place  by  digging. 
7.  Reg'i-den-cy,  the  official  dwelling  of  a  government  officer  in  India. 
Sl-mul-ta'ne-ous,  happening  at  the  same  time. 

NOTES.  —  Lucknow,  a  city  in  the  British  possession  of  India.  In 
1857  there  was  a  mutiny  of  the  native  troops,  and  the  British 
garrison  of  1700  men  was  besieged  by  10,000  mutineers.  After 
twelve  weeks'  siege,  fresh  British  troops  forced  an  entrance,  and 
the  town  was  held  until  relieved  three  weeks  later  by  the  arrival 
of  Sir  Colin  Campbell,  as  above  described. 

1.  Cawnpore,  also  a  city  of  India,  near  Lucknow,  which  was 
besieged  during  the  mutiny.  After  surrendering,  the  English, 
two  thirds  of  whom  were  women  and  children,  were  treacherously 
massacred. 


FIFTH   READER.  159 

4.  The  inhabitants  of  the  northern  part  of  Scotland  are  called 
Highlanders;  those  of  the  southern  part,  Lowlanders.  The  dia- 
lect of  the  former  is  very  peculiar,  as  shown  in  the  language  of 
Jessie  Brown;  as,  dinna  for  did  not,  a'  for  all,  no  for  not,  noo  for 
now,  auld  for  old.  Macgregor  and  Campbell  are  names  of  High- 
land clans  or  families. 

Whittier's  poem,  "  The  Pipes  at  Lucknow,"  and  Robert  T.  S. 
Lowell's  "  The  Relief  of  Lucknow,"  are  descriptive  of  this  same 
incident. 


XLVHI.    THE  SNOWSTORM. 

James  Thomson  (6. 1700,  d.  1748)  was  born  at  Ednam,  in  the  shire  of 
Roxburgh,  Scotland.  He  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh, 
and  afterwards  studied  for  the  ministry,  but  in  a  short  time  changed  his 
plans  and  devoted  himself  to  literature.  His  early  poems  are  quite  insig- 
nificant, but  "  The  Seasons,"  from  which  the  following  selection  is  taken, 
and  the  "  Castle  of  Indolence,"  are  masterpieces  of  English  poetry. 

1.  THROUGH  the  hushed  air  the  whitening  shower  descends, 
At  first  thin  wavering;   till  at  last  the  flakes 

Fall  broad  and  wide  and  fast,  dimming  the  day, 

With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherished  fields 

Put  on  their  winter  robe  of  purest  white. 

'Tis  brightness  all:   save  where  the  new  snow  melts 

Along  the  mazy  current. 

2.  Low  the  woods 
Bow  their  hoar  head;    and  ere  the  languid  sun 
Faint  from  the  west  emits  its  evening  ray, 
Earth's  universal  face,  deep-hid  and  chill, 

Is  one  wild  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 
The  works  of  man. 

3.  Drooping,  the  laborer  ox 
Stands  covered  o'er  with  snow,  and  then  demands 
The  fruit  of  all  his  toil.     The  fowls  of  heaven, 
Tamed  by  the  cruel  season,  crowd  around 

The  winnowing  store,  and  claim  the  little  boon 
Which  Providence  assigns  them. 


160  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  One  alone, 
The  Eedbreast,  sacred  to  the  household  gods, 
Wisely  regardful  of  the  embroiling  sky, 

In  joyless  fields  and  thorny  thickets  leaves 
His  shivering  mates,  and  pays  to  trusted  man 
His  annual  visit. 

5.  Half-afraid,  he  first 
Against  the  window  beats;    then,  brisk,  alights 

On  the  warm  hearth;   then,  hopping  o'er  the  floor, 
Eyes  all  the  smiling  family  askance, 
And  pecks,  and  starts,  and  wonders  where  he  is; 
Till,  more  familiar  grown,  the  table  crumbs 
Attract  his  slender  feet. 

6.  The  foodless  wilds 
Pour  forth  their  brown  inhabitants.     The  hare, 
Though  timorous  of  heart,  and  hard  beset 

By  death  in  various  forms,  dark  snares  and  dogs, 
And  more  unpitying  men,  the  garden  seeks, 
Urged  on  by  fearless  want.     The  bleating  kind 
Eye  the  bleak  heaven,  and  next  the  glistening  earth, 
With  looks  of  dumb  despair;   then,  sad  dispersed, 
Dig  for  the  withered  herb  through  heaps  of  snow 

7.  Now,  shepherds,  to  your  helpless  charge  be  kind, 
Baffle  the  raging  year,  and  fill  their  pens 

With  food  at  will;   lodge  them  below  the  storm, 
And  watch  them  strict;   for  from  the  bellowing  east, 
In  this  dire  season,  oft  the  whirlwind's  wing 
Sweeps  up  the  burden  of  whole  wintry  plains 
In  one  wide  waft,  and  o'er  the  hapless  flocks, 
Hid  in  the  hollow  of  two  neighboring  hills, 
The  billowy  tempest  'whelms;   till,  upward  urged, 
The  valley  to  a  shining  mountain  swells, 
Tipped  with  a  wreath  high-curling  in  the  sky 


FIFTH   READER.  161 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ma'zy,  winding.  2.  Hoar,  white  or  grayish 
white.  E-mits',  sends  forth,  throws  out,  3.  Wm'now-ing,  separat- 
ing chajf  from  grain  by  means  of  wind.  Boon,  a  gift.  4.  Em- 
broil'ing,  throwing  into  disorder  or  contention.  5.  A-skan^e',  side- 
ways. 6.  Wilds,  woods,  forests.  Be-set',  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  so 
that  escape  is  difficult.  7.  Dire,  dreadful,  terrible.  Waft,  a  current 
of  wind.  Whelms',  covers  completely. 

NOTE.  —  4.  Household  gods.  An  allusion  to  the  belief  of  the 
ancient  Romans  in  the  Penates  —  certain  gods  who  were  supposed 
to  protect  the  household  and  all  connected  with  it.  The  idea 
here  expressed  is,  that  the  Redbreast  was  secure  from  harm. 


XLIX.    BEHIND  TIME. 

1.  A  RAILROAD  train  was  rushing  along  at  almost  light- 
ning speed.     A  curve  was  just  ahead,  beyond  which  was  a 
station  where  two  trains  usually  met.     The  conductor  was 
late,  —  so  late  that  the  period  during  which  the  up  train 
was  to  wait  had  nearly  elapsed ;  but  he  hoped  yet  to  pass 
the  curve  safely.     Suddenly  a  locomotive  dashed  into  sight 
right  ahead.     In  an  instant  there  was  a  collision.     A  shriek, 
a  shock,  and  fifty  souls  were  in  eternity ;  and  all  because 
an  engineer  had  been  behind  time. 

2.  A  great  battle  was  going  on.     Column  after  column 
had  been  precipitated  for  eight  hours  on  the  enemy  posted 
along  the  ridge  of  a  hill.     The  summer  sun  was  sinking  in 
the  west ;  ree'nf orcements  for  the  obstinate  defenders  were 
already  in  sight;  it  was  necessary  to  carry  the  position 
with  one  final  charge,  or  everything  would  be  lost. 

3.  A  powerful  corps   had  been  summoned  from  across 
the  country,  and  if  it  came  up  in  season  all  would  yet  be 
well.     The  great  conqueror,  confident  in  its  arrival,  formed 
his  reserve  into  an  attacking  column,  and  ordered  them  to 
charge  the  enemy.     The  whole  world  knows   the  result. 
Grouchy  failed  to  appear  j  the  imperial  guard  was  beaten 

(5.— 11.) 


162  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

back ;  and  Waterloo  was  lost.     Napoleon  died  a  prisoner  at 
St.  Helena  because  one  of  his  marshals  was  behind  time. 

4.  A  leading  firm  in  commercial  circles  had  long  strug- 
gled against  bankruptcy.     As  it  had  large  sums  of  money 
in  California,  it  expected  remittances  by  a  certain  day,  and 
if  they  arrived,  its  credit,  its  honor,  and  its  future  pros- 
perity would  be  preserved.     But  week  after  week  elapsed 
without  bringing  the  gold.     At  last  came  the  fatal  day  on 
which  the  firm  had  bills  maturing  to  large  amounts.     The 
steamer  was  telegraphed  at  daybreak ;  but  it  was  found,  on 
inquiry,  that  she  brought  no  funds,  and  the  house  failed. 
The  next  arrival  brought  nearly  half  a  million  to  the  in- 
solvents, but  it  was  too  late;  they  were  ruined  because 
their  agent,  in  remitting,  had  been  behind  time. 

5.  A  condemned  man  was  led  out  for   execution.     He 
had  taken  human  life,   but  under  circumstances  of   the 
greatest  provocation,  and  public  sympathy  was  active  in 
his  behalf.     Thousands  had  signed  petitions  for  a  reprieve ; 
a  favorable  answer  had  been  expected  the  night  before,  and 
though  it  had  not  come,  even  the  sheriff  felt  confident  that 
it  would  yet  arrive.     Thus  the  morning  passed  without  the 
appearance  of  the  messenger. 

6.  The  last  moment  was  up.     The  prisoner  took  his  place, 
the  cap  was  drawn  over  his  eyes,  the  bolt  was  drawn,  and 
a  lifeless  body  swung  revolving  in  the  wind.     Just  at  that 
moment  a  horseman  came  into  sight,  galloping  down  hill, 
his  steed  covered  with  foam.     He  carried  a  packet  in  his 
right  hand,  which  he  waved  frantically  to  the  crowd.     He 
was  the  express  rider  with  the  reprieve ;  but  he  came  too 
late.     A   comparatively   innocent  man  had  died  an  igno- 
minious death  because  a  watch  had  been  five  minutes  too 
late,  making  its  bearer  arrive  behind  time. 

7.  It  is  continually  so  in  life.     The  best  laid  plans,  the 
most  important  affairs,  the  fortunes  of  individuals,  the  weal 
of  nations,  honor,  happiness,  life  itself,  are  daily  sacrificed, 
because  somebody  is  "behind  time."     There  are  men  who 


FIFTH   READER.  163 

always  fail  in  whatever  they  undertake,  simply  because 
they  are  "behind  time."  There  are  others  who  put  off 
reformation  year  after  year,  till  death  seizes  them,  and 
they  perish  unrepentant,  because  forever  "behind  time." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Col-l$'sion,  the  act  of  striking  together  violently. 
2.  Pre-^ip'i-tat-ed,  urged  on  violently.  Re-en-for^e'ments,  additional 
troops.  3.  Corps  (pro.  kor),  a  body  of  troops.  Re-serve',  a  select 
body  of  troops  held  back  in  case  of  special  need  for  their  services. 
4.  Bank'rupt-c,y,  inability  to  pay  all  debts,  insolvency.  Re-mit'tanc-es, 
money,  drafts,  etc.,  sent  from  a  distance.  Ma-tur'ing,  approaching  the 
time  fixed  for  payment.  5.  Prov-o-ea'tion,  that  which  causes  anger. 
6.  Ig-no-min'i-ous,  infamous.  7.  Weal,  prosperity,  happiness. 

XOTES.  —  3.  Emmanuel  Grouchy  was  one  of  Napoleon's  marshals 
at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  fought  in  1815,  between  the  French 
under  Napoleon,  and  the  English,  Dutch,  and  German  troops 
under  Wellington. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte  (b.  1769,  d.  1821)  was  born  on  the  island 
of  Corsica.  At  school  he  was  "studious,  well-behaved,  and  dis- 
tinguished in  mathematical  studies."  In  1785  he  was  commis- 
sioned as  a  sublieutenant  in  the  army.  From  this  obscure  position 
he  raised  himself  to  the  head  of  the  army,  and  in  1804  was  elected 
emperor  of  the  French.  He  is  almost  universally  acknowledged 
to  have  been  the  greatest  general  the  world  has  known. 


L.    THE  OLD   SAMPLER. 

1.   OUT  of  the  way,  in  a  corner 

Of  our  dear  old  attic  room, 
Where  bunches  of  herbs  from  the  hillside 

Shake  ever  a  faint  perfume, 
An  oaken  chest  is  standing, 

With  hasp  and  padlock  and  key, 
Strong  as  the  hands  that  made  it 

On  the  other  side  of  the  sea. 


164  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  When  the  winter  days  are  dreary, 

And  we're  out  of  heart  with  life, 
Of  its  crowding  cares  aweary, 

And  sick  of  its  restless  strife, 
We  take  a  lesson  in  patience 

From  the  attic  corner  dim, 
Where  the  chest  still  holds  its  treasures, 

A  warder  faithful  and  grim. 

3.  Robes  of  an  antique  fashion, 

Linen  and  lace  and  silk, 
That  time  has  tinted  with  saffron, 

Though  once  they  were  white  as  milk; 
Wonderful  baby  garments, 

'Broidered  with  loving  care 
By  fingers  that  felt  the  pleasure, 

As  they  wrought  the  ruffles  fair; 

4.  A  sword,  with  the  red  rust  on  it, 

That  flashed  in  the  battle  tide, 
When  from  Lexington  to  Yorktown 

Sorely  men's  souls  were  tried; 
A  plumed  chapeau  and  a  buckle, 

And  many  a  relic  fine, 
And,  all  by  itself,  the  sampler, 

Framed  in  with  berry  and  vine. 

5.  Faded  the  square  of  canvas, 

And  dim  is  the  silken  thread, 
But  I  think  of  white  hands  dimpled, 

And  a  childish,  sunny  head; 
For  here  in  cross  and  in  tent  stitch, 

In  a  wreath  of  berry  and  vine, 
She  worked  it  a  hundred  years  ago, 
Nine." 


FIFTH    READER. 


166 


6.   In  and  out  in  the  sunshine, 

The  little  needle  flashed, 
And  in  and  out  on  the  rainy  day, 

When  the  merry  drops  down  plashed, 
As  close  she  sat  by  her  mother, 

The  little  Puritan  maid, 
And  did  her  piece  in  the  sampler, 

While  the  other  children  played. 


7.  You  are  safe  in  the  beautiful  heaven, 

"Elizabeth,  aged  nine;" 
But  before  you  went  you  had  troubles 

Sharper  than  any  of  mine. 
Oh,  the  gold  hair  turned  with  sorrow 

White  as  the  drifted  snow. 


166 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


And  your  tears  dropped  here  where  I'm  standing, 
On  this  very  plumed  chapeau. 


8.  When  you  put  it  away,  its  wearer 

Would  need  it  nevermore, 
By  a  sword  thrust  learning  the  secrets 

God  keeps  on  yonder  shore; 
And  you  wore  your  grief  like  glory, 

You  could  not  yield  supine, 
Who  wrought  in  your  patient  childhood, 
Nine." 


FIFTH   READER.  167 

9.   Out  of  the  way,  in  a  corner, 

With  hasp  and  padlock  and  key, 
Stands  the  oaken  chest  of  my  fathers 

That  came  from  over  the  sea; 
And  the  hillside  herbs  above  it 

Shake  odors  fragrant  and  fine, 
And  here  on  its  lid  is  a  garland 

To  "Elizabeth,  aged  nine." 

10.   For  love  is  of  the  immortal, 

And  patience  is  sublime, 
And  trouble  a  thing  of  every  day, 

And  touching  every  time ; 
And  childhood  sweet  and  sunny, 

And  womanly  truth  and  grace, 
Ever  can  light  life's  darkness 

And  bless  earth's  lowliest  place. 

—  Mrs.  M.  E.  Sangster. 

DEFINITIONS 2.  "Ward'er,  a  keeper,  a  guard.    3.  An-tique',  old, 

ancient.     Saffron,  a  deep  yellow.     4.  Cha-peau',  a  hat.     8.  Su-pme', 
listless.     10.    Im-mor'tal,  undying. 

NOTES.  —  6.  Puritan.  The  Puritans  "were  a  religious  sect  who 
fled  from  persecution  in  England,  and  afterwards  settled  the  most 
of  New  England. 

A  sampler  is  a  needlework  pattern;  a  species  of  fancywork 
formerly  much  in  vogue. 


LI.     THE  GOODNESS   OF   GOD. 

1.  BLESS  the  Lord,  0  my  soul !  0  Lord,  my  God,  thou 
art  very  great ;  thou  art  clothed  with  honor  and  majesty : 
who  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment;  who 
stretchest  out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain;  who  layeth  the 


168  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

beams  of  his  chambers  in  the  waters;  who  maketh  the 
clouds  his  chariot;  who  walketh  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind;  who  maketh  his  angels  spirits,  his  ministers  a  nam- 
ing fire;  who  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  that  it 
should  not  be  removed  forever. 

2.  Thou  coveredst  it  with  the  deep  as  with  a  garment: 
the  waters   stood  above  the   mountains.     At  thy   rebuke 
they  fled;  at  the  voice  of  thy  thunder  they  hasted  away. 
They  go  up  by  the  mountains;  they  go  down  by  the  val- 
leys unto  the  place  which  thou  hast  founded  for  them. 
Thou  hast  set  a  bound  which  they  may  not  pass  over; 
that  they  turn  not  again  to  cover  the  earth. 

3.  He  sendeth  the  springs  into  the  valleys,  which  run 
among  the  hills.     They  give  drink  to  every  beast  of  the 
field;  the  wild  asses  quench  their  thirst.     By  them  shall 
the  fowls  of  the  heaven  have  their  habitation,  which  sing 
among   the   branches.     He    watereth   the   hills    from   his 
chambers;    the   earth  is   satisfied  with  the  fruit  of  thy 
works. 

4.  He  caused  the  grass  to  grow  for  the  cattle,  and  herb 
for  the  service  of  man,  that  he  may  bring  forth  food  out 
of  the  earth;   and  wine  that  maketh   glad  the  heart  of 
man,  and  oil  to  make  his  face  to  shine,  and  bread  which 
strengthened  man's  heart. 

5.  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap;  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon,  which  he   hath  planted,  where   the   birds   make 
their  nests:   as  for  the  stork,  the  fir  trees  are  her  house. 
The  high  hills  are  a  refuge  for  the  wild  goats,  and  the 
rocks  for  the  conies. 

6.  He  appointed  the  moon  for  seasons;   the  sun  know- 
eth  his   going  down.     Thou   makest   darkness,   and   it  is 
night,  wherein  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  do  creep  forth. 
The  young  lions  roar  after  their  prey,  and  seek  their  meat 
from   God.     The  sun  ariseth,  they  gather  themselves   to- 
gether, and  lay  them  down  in  their  dens.     Man  goeth  forth 
unto  his  work,  and  to  his  labor  until  the  evening. 


FIFTH    READER,  169 

7.  0  Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works !  in  wisdom  hast 
thou  made  them  all:  the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches.     So 
is  this   great  and  wide   sea,  wherein  are  things  creeping 
innumerable,  both  small   and  great  beasts.     There  go  the 
ships:   there  is   that  leviathan,  whom  thou  hast  made  to 
play  therein.     These  wait  all  upon  thee,  that  thou  mayest 
give  them  their  meat  in  due  season. 

8.  That  thou  givest  them  they  gather ;  thou  openest  thine 
hand,  they  are  filled  with  good.     Thou  hidest  thy  face,  they 
are  troubled ;  thou  takest  away  their  breath,  they  die,  and 
return  to  their  dust.     Thou  sendest  forth  thy  Spirit,  they 
are  created ;  and  thou  renewest  the  face  of  the  earth. 

9.  The  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  endure  forever :  the  Lord 
shall  rejoice  in  his  works.     He  looketh  on  the  earth,  and  it 
trembleth :  he  toucheth  the  hills,  and  they  smoke. 

10.  0  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness, 
and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men !     And 
let  them  sacrifice  the  sacrifices  of  thanksgiving,  and  declare 
his  works  with  rejoicing. 

11.  0  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord;  call  upon  his  name; 
make  known  his  deeds  among  the  people.     Sing  unto  him, 
sing  psalms  unto  him :  talk  ye  of  all  his  wondrous  works. 
Glory  ye  in  his  holy  name :  let  the  heart  of  them  rejoice 
that  seek  the  Lord.     Seek  the  Lord,  and  his  strength; 
seek  his  face  evermore. 

12.  Remember  his  marvelous  works  that  he  hath  done ; 
his  wonders,  and  the  judgments  of  his  mouth.     He  is  the 
Lord  our   God;   his   judgments   are   in  all  the  earth.     I 
will   sing  unto  the   Lord  as   long  as  I  live:  I  will   sing 
praise  to  my  God  while  I  have  my  being. 

— Extracts  from  the  Bible. 

DEFINITIONS.  — 2.  Found'ed,  built,  established.  3.  Hab-i-ta'- 
tion,  place  of  abode.  5.  Refuge,  shelter,  protection.  Co'ny,  a 
kind  of  rabbit.  6.  Ap-point'ed,  ordained. 


170  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


.-^5.  Cedars  of  Lebanon.  A  species  of  cedar,  of  great 
magnificence,  formerly  abundant  in  Mt.  Lebanon  and  the  Taurus 
Range  in  Asia  Minor,  but  now  almost  entirely  destroyed.  The 
wood  is  durable  and  fragrant,  and  was  used  in  the  construction 
of  costly  buildings,  such  as  the  palace  of  David  and  Solomon's 
Temple. 

7.  Leviathan.  This  name  is  applied  in  the  Old  Testament  to 
some  huge  water  animal.  In  some  cases  it  appears  to  mean  the 
crocodile,  but  in  others  the  whale  or  a  large  sea  serpent. 


LII.    MY  MOTHER. 

1.  OFTEN  into  folly  straying, 

0,  my  mother!   how  I've  grieved  her! 
Oft  I've  heard  her  for  me  praying, 

Till  the  gushing  tears  relieved  her; 
And  she  gently  rose  and  smiled, 
Whispering,  "God  will  keep  my  child." 

2.  She  was  youthful  then,  and  sprightly, 

Fondly  on  my  father  leaning, 
Sweet  she  spoke,  her  eyes  shone  brightly, 

And  her  words  were  full  of  meaning; 
Now,  an  autumn  leaf  decayed; 
I,  perhaps,  have  made  it  fade. 

3.  But,  whatever  ills  betide  thee, 

Mother,  in  them  all  I  share; 
In  thy  sickness  watch  beside  thee, 

And  beside  thee  kneel  in  prayer. 
Best  of  mothers !   on  my  breast 
Lean  thy  head,  and  sink  to  rest 


FIFTH    READER.  171 


LIII.    THE  HOUR  OF   PRAYER. 

Felicia  Dorothea  Hemans  (b.  1794,  d.  1835)  was  born  in  Liverpool, 
England.  Her  maiden  name  was  Browne.  Her  childhood  was  spent  in 
Wales.  Her  first  volume  of  poems  was  published  in  1808;  her  second  in 
1812.  In  1812  she  was  married  to  Captain  Hemans,  but  he-  left  her  about 
six  years  after  their  marriage,  and  they  never  again  lived  together.  She 
went,  with  her  five  sons,  to  reside  with  her  mother,  then  living  near 
St.  Asaph,  in  North  Wales.  Mrs.  Hemans  then  resumed  her  literary  pur- 
suits, and  wrote  much  and  well.  Her  poetry  is  smooth  and  graceful,  and 
she  excels  in  description.  Many  of  her  poems  are  exceedingly  beautiful. 

1.  CHILD,  amid  the  flowers  at  play, 
While  the  red  light  fades  away; 
Mother,  with  thine  earnest  eye, 
Ever  following  silently; 
Father,  by  the  breeze  at  eve 
Called  thy  harvest  work  to  leave; 
Pray!     Ere  yet  the  dark  hours  be, 
Lift  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee. 

2.  Traveler,  in  the  stranger's  land, 

Far  from  thine  own  household  band; 
Mourner,  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  a  voice  from  this  world  gone; 
Captive,  in  whose  narrow  cell 
Sunshine  hath  not  leave  to  dwell; 
Sailor,  on  the  darkening  sea; 
Lift  the  heart  and  bend  the  knee. 

3.  Warrior,  that  from  battle  won, 
Breathest  now  at  set  of  sun; 
Woman,  o'er  the  lowly  slain 
Weeping  on  his  burial  plain; 
Ye  that  triumph,  ye  that  sigh, 
Kindred  by  one  holy  tie, 
Heaven's  first  star  alike  ye  see; 
Lift  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee. 


172  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LIV.    THE  WILL. 

Characters.  —  SWIPES,  a  brewer;  CURRIE,  a  saddler;  FRANK 
MILLINGTON  ;  and  SQUIRE  DRAWL. 

Swipes.  A  SOBER  occasion,  this,  brother  Currie.  Who 
would  have  thought  the  old  lady  was  so  near  her  end  ? 

Currie.  Ah !  we  must  all  die,  brother  Swipes ;  and  those 
who  live  the  longest  outlive  the  most. 

Swipes.  True,  true;  but,  since  we  must  die  and  leave 
our  earthly  possessions,  it  is  well  that  the  law  takes  such 
good  care  of  us.  Had  the  old  lady  her  senses  when,  she 
departed  ? 

Cur.  Perfectly,  perfectly.  Squire  Drawl  told  me  she 
read  every  word  of  the  will  aloud,  and  never  signed  her 
name  better. 

Swipes.  Had  you  any  hint  from  the  Squire  what  dispo- 
sition she  made  of  her  property  ? 

Cur.  Not  a  whisper ;  the  Squire  is  as  close  as  an  under- 
ground tomb;  but  one  of  the  witnesses  hinted  to  me  that 
she  had  cut  off  her  graceless  nephew,  Frank,  without  a 
shilling. 

Swipes.  Has  she,  good  soul,  has  she  ?  You  know  I  come 
in,  then,  in  right  of  my  wife. 

Cur.  And  I  in  my  own  right ;  and  this  is  no  doubt  the 
reason  why  we  have  been  called  to  hear  the  reading  of 
the  will.  Squire  Drawl  knows  how  things  should  be  done, 
though  he  is  as  air-tight  as  one  of  your  beer  barrels.  But 
here  comes  the  young  reprobate.  He  must  be  present,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  you  know.  [Enter  FRANK  MILLINGTON.] 
Your  servant,  young  gentleman.  So  your  benefactress  has 
left  you  at  last. 

Swipes.  It  is  a  painful  thing  to  part  with  old  and  good 
friends,  Mr.  Millington. 

Frank.   It  is  so,  sir;   but  I  could  bear  her  loss   better 


FIFTH    READER  173 

had  I  not  so  often  been  ungrateful  for  her  kindness.  She 
was  my  only  friend,  and  I  knew  not  her  value. 

Cur.  It  is  too  late  to  repent,  Master  Millington.  You 
will  now  have  a  chance  to  earn  your  own  bread. 

Swipes.  Ay,  ay,  by  the  sweat  of  your  brow,  as  better 
people  are  obliged  to.  You  would  make  a  fine  brewer's 
boy,  if  you  were  not  too  old. 

Cur.   Ay,  or  a  saddler's  lackey,  if  held  with  a  tight  rein. 

Frank.  Gentlemen,  your  remarks  imply  that  my  aunt  has 
treated  me  as  I  deserved.  I  am  above  your  insults,  and 
only  hope  you  will  bear  your  fortune  as  modestly  as  I 
shall  mine  submissively.  I  shall  retire.  [Going :  he  meets 
SQUIRE  DRAWI,.] 

Squire.  Stop,  stop,  young  man.  We  must  have  your 
presence.  Good  morning,  gentlemen-,  you  are  early  on 
the  ground. 

Cur.   I  hope  the  Squire  is  well  to-day. 

Squire.   Pretty  comfortable,  for  an  invalid. 

Swipes.  I  trust  the  damp  air  has  not  affected  your  lungs 
again. 

Squire.  No,  I  believe  not.  But,  since  the  heirs  at  law 
are  all  convened,  I  shall  now  proceed  to  open  the  last 
will  and  testament  of  your  deceased  relative,  according 
to  law. 

Swipes.  [While  the  SQUIRE  is  breaking  the  sea/.]  It  is  a 
trying  thing  to  leave  all  one's  possessions,  Squire,  in  this 
manner. 

Cur.  It  really  makes  me  feel  melancholy  when  I  look 
around  and  see  everything  but  the  venerable  owner  of 
these  goods.  Well  did  the  Preacher  say,  "  All  is  vanity." 

Squire.  Please  to  be  seated,  gentlemen.  [He  puts  on  his 
spectacles  and  begins  to  read  slowly."]  "Imprimis;  whereas, 
my  nephew,  Francis  Millington,  by  his  disobedience  and 
ungrateful  conduct,  has  shown  himself  unworthy  of  my 
bounty,  and  incapable  of  managing  my  large  estate,  I  do 
hereby  give  and  bequeath  all  my  houses,  farms,  stocks, 


174  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

bonds,  moneys,  and  property,  both,  personal  and  real,  to 
my  dear  cousins,  Samuel  Swipes,  of  Malt  Street,  brewer, 
and  Christopher  Currie,  of  Fly  Court,  saddler."  [The 
SQUIRE  here  takes  off  his  spectacles,  and  begins  to  wipe  them 
very  leisurely.] 

Swipes.  Generous  creature !  kind  soul !  I  always  loved 
her! 

Cur.  She  was  good,  she  was  kind; — and,  brother  Swipes, 
when  we  divide,  I  think  I  '11  take  the  mansion  house. 

Swipes.  Not  so  fast,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Currie.  My  wife 
has  long  had  her  eye  upon  that,  and  must  have  it. 

Cur.  There  will  be  two  words  to  that  bargain,  Mr. 
Swipes.  And,  besides,  I  ought  to  have  the  first  choice. 
Did  I  not  lend  her  a  new  chaise  every  time  she  wished 
to  ride  ?  And  who  knows  what  influence  — 

Swipes.  Am  I  not  named  first  in  her  will  ?  and  did  I 
not  furnish  her  with  my  best  small  beer  for  more  than 
six  months?  And  who  knows  — 

Frank.    Gentlemen,  I  must  leave  you.     [Going.'] 

Squire.  [Putting  on  his  spectacles  very  deliberately.']  Pray, 
gentlemen,  keep  your  seats,  I  have  not  done  yet.  Let  me 
see ;  where  was  I  ?  Ay,  "  All  my  property,  both  personal 
and  real,  to  my  dear  cousins,  Samuel  Swipes,  of  Malt 
Street,  brewer,"  — 

Swipes.   Yes ! 

Squire.   "And  Christopher  Currie,  of  Fly  Court,  saddler," 

Cur.   Yes! 

Squire.  "To  have  and  to  hold,  IN  TRUST,  for  the  sole 
and  exclusive  benefit  of  my  nephew,  Francis  Millington, 
until  he  shall  have  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one  years, 
by  which  time  I  hope  he  will  have  so  far  reformed  his 
evil  habits,  as  that  he  may  safely  be  intrusted  with  the 
large  fortune  which  I  hereby  bequeath  to  him." 

Swipes.  What  ip  all  this  ?  You  don't  mean  that  we  are 
humbugged?  Intrust!  How  does  that  appear  ?  Where 
is  it? 


FIFTH    READER.  175 

Squire.  There ;  in  two  words  of  as  good  old  English  as  I 
ever  penned. 

Cur.  Pretty  well,  too,  Mr.  Squire,  if  we  must  be  sent 
for  to  be  made  a  laughingstock  of.  She  shall  pay  for 
every  ride  she  has  had  out  of  my  chaise,  I  promise  you. 

Swipes.  And  for  every  drop  of  my  beer.  Fine  times,  if 
two  sober,  hard-working  citizens  are  to  be  brought  here  to 
be  made  the  sport  of  a  graceless  profligate.  But  we  will 
manage  his  property  for  him,  Mr.  Currie;  we  will  make 
him  feel  that  trustees  are  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

Cur.   That  we  will. 

Squire.  Not  so  fast,  gentlemen;  for  the  instrument  is 
dated  three  years  ago ;  and  the  young  gentleman  must  be 
already  of  age,  and  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  Is  it 
not  so,  Francis  ? 

Frank.   It  is,  your  worship. 

Squire.  Then,  gentlemen,  having  attended  to  the  break- 
ing of  the  seal,  according  to  law,  you  are  released  from  any 
further  trouble  about  the  business. 


DEFINITIONS.  —  Dis-po-si'tion,  disposal.  G^e'less,  depraved, 
corrupt.  Rep'ro-bate,  one  morally  lost.  Lack'ey,  an  attending 
servant,  a  footman.  Deceased',  dead.  Con-vened',  met  together, 
assembled.  Im-pri'mis  (Latin"),  in  the  first  place.  Chaise  (pro. 
shaz),  a  kind  of  two-wheeled  carriage.  Re-formed',  returned  to  a 
good  state.  Prof'li-gate,  a  person  openly  and  shamelessly  vicious. 
In'stru-ment  (a  term  in  law),  a  writing  expressive  of  some  act,  con- 
tract, etc. 


NOTES.  —  Terms  having  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  meaning, 
as,  "  will  and  testament,"  "  give  and  bequeath,"  "  to  have  and  to 
hold,"  "  sole  and  exclusive,"  are  commonly  joined  in  this  way  in 
legal  documents. 

Personal  property  usually  consists  of  things  temporary  and 
movable,  while  real  property  includes  things  fixed  and  immovable, 
such  as  lands  and  tenements. 


176  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LV.    THE  NOSE  AND   THE  EYES. 

William  Cowper  (b.  1731,  d.  1800)  was  the  son  of  an  English  clergyman, 
and  was  born  in  Great  Berkhampstead,  Hertfordshire,  England.  He  was 
sent  to  Westminster  School  when  he  was  ten  years  of  age,  and  he  re- 
mained there,  a  diligent  student,  eight  years.  He  then  studied  law,  and 
was  admitted  to  the  bar,  but  he  never  practiced  his  profession.  He  was 
appointed  to  a  clerkship  in  the  House  of  Lords  when  he  was  about  thirty 
years  old,  but  he  never  entered  upon  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  He  be- 
came insane,  and  was  sent  to  a  private  asylum.  After  his  recovery,  he 
found  a  home  in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Unwin.  On  the  death  of  this 
gentleman,  he  resided  with  the  widow  till  her  death  —  most  of  the  time  at 
Olney.  His  first  writings  were  published  in  1782.  "  The  Task,"  some 
hymns,  a  number  of  minor  poems,  and  his  translations  of  Homer,  com- 
posed his  published  works.  His  insanity  returned  at  times,  and  darkened 
a  pure  and  gentle  life  at  its  close. 

1.  BETWEEN  Nose  and  Eyes  a  strange  contest  arose; 

The  spectacles  set  them,  unhappily,  wrong; 
The  point  in  dispute  was,  as  all  the  world  knows, 
To  which  the  said  spectacles  ought  to  belong. 

2.  So  Tongue  was  the  lawyer,  and  argued  the  cause, 

With  a  great  deal  of  skill  and  a  wig  full  of  learning, 
"While  chief  baron  Ear  sat  to  balance  the  laws, 
So  famed  for  his  talent  in  nicely  discerning. 

3.  "In  behalf  of  the  Nose,  it  will  quickly  appear, 

And  your  lordship,"  he  said,  "  will  undoubtedly  find, 
That  the  Nose  has  the  spectacles  always  to  wear, 
Which  amounts  to  possession,  time  out  of  mind." 

4.  Then,  holding  the  spectacles  up  to  the  court, 

"  Your  lordship  observes,  they  are  made  with  a  straddle 
As  wide  as  the  ridge  of  the  Nose  is;  in  short, 
Designed  to  sit  close  to  it,  just  like  a  saddle. 

6.   "Again,  would  your  lordship  a  moment  suppose 

('T  is  a  case  that  has  happened,  and  may  happen  again) 
That  the  visage  or  countenance  had  not  a  Nose, 
Pray,  who  would  or  who  could  wear  spectacles  then  ? 


FIFTH    READER.  177 

6.  "On  the  whole  it  appears,  and  my  argument  shows, 

With  a  reasoning  the  court  will  never  condemn, 
That  the  spectacles  plainly  were  made  for  the  Nose, 
And  the  Nose  was  as  plainly  intended  for  them." 

7.  Then  shifting  his  side  (as  a  lawyer  knows  how), 

He  pleaded  again  in  behalf  of  the  Eyes: 
But  what  were  his  arguments,  few  people  know, 
For  the  court  did  not  think  them  equally  wise. 

8.  So  his  lordship  decreed,  with  a  grave,  solemn  tone, 

Decisive  and  clear,  without  one  if  or  but, 
That  whenever  the  Nose  put  his  spectacles  on, 
By  daylight  or  candlelight,  —  Eyes  should  be  shut. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Ar'gued,  discussed,  treated  by  reasoning.  Dis- 
<jern'ing  (pro.  diz-zern'ing),  marking  as  different,  distinguishing. 
3.  Be-half',  support,  defense.  8.  De-ereed',  determined  judicially  by 
authority,  ordered. 


LVI.    AN  ICEBERG. 

Louis  Legrand  Noble  (6.  1813,  d.  1882)  was  born  in  Otsego  County, 
New  York.  When  twelve  years  of  age,  he  removed  with  his  family  to  the 
wilds  of  Michigan,  but  after  the  death  of  his  father  he  returned  to  New 
York  to  study  for  the  ministry,  which  he  entered  in  1840.  About  this 
time  he  published  his  first  productions,  two  Indian  romances  in  the  form 
of  poems,  entitled  "  Pewatem  "  and  "  Nimahmin."  Mr.  Noble  lived  for  a 
time  in  North  Carolina,  and  later  at  Catskill  on  the  Hudson,  where  he 
became  a  warm  friend  of  the  artist  Cole.  After  the  latter's  death  he 
wrote  a  memorial  of  him.  Other  works  of  this  author  are  "The  Hours, 
and  other  Poems,"  and  "  After  Icebergs  with  a  Painter,"  from  which  this 
selection  is  taken. 

1.  WE  have  just  passed  a  fragment  of  some  one  of  the 
surrounding  icebergs  that  had  amused  us.  It  bore  the 
resemblance  of  a  huge  polar  bear,  reposing  upon  the  base 
of  an  inverted  cone,  with  a  twist  of  a  seashell,  and  whirl- 
ing slowly  round  and  round.  The  ever-attending  green 

(6.— 12.) 


178  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

water,  with  its  aerial  clearness,  enabled  us  to  see  its  spiral 
folds  and  horns  as  they  hung  suspended  in  the  deep. 

2.  The  bear,   a  ten-foot   mass  in  tolerable  proportion, 
seemed  to  be  regularly  beset  by  a  pack  of  hungry  little 
swells.     First,  one  would  take  him  on  the  haunch,  then 
whip  back  into  the  sea  over  his  tail  and  between  his  legs. 
Presently  a  bolder  swell  would  rise  and  pitch  into  his 
back  with  a  ferocity  that  threatened  instant  destruction. 
It  only  washed  his  satin  fleece  the  whiter. 

3.  While  Bruin  was  turning  to  look  the  daring  assailant 
in  the  face,  the  rogue  had  pitched  himself  back  into  his 
cave.     No  sooner  that,  than  a  very  bulldog  of  a  billow 
would  attack  him  in  the  face.     The  serenity  with  which 
the  impertinent  assault  was  borne  was  complete.     It  was 
but  a  puff  of  silvery  dust,  powdering  his  mane  with  fresher 
brightness.     Nothing  would  be  left  of  bull  but  a  little  froth 
of  all  the  foam  displayed  in  the  fierce  onset.     He  too  would 
turn  and  scud  into  his  hiding  place. 

4.  Persistent  little  waves!     After  a  dash,   singly,   all 
around,   upon  the  common  enemy,  as  if  by  some  silent 
agreement  underwater,  they  would  all  rush  on   at  once, 
with  their  loudest  roar  and  shaggiest  foam,  and  overwhelm 
poor  bear  so  completely   that  nothing  less  might  be  ex- 
pected than  to  behold  him  broken  in  four  quarters,  and 
floating   helplessly  asunder.      Mistaken    spectators!      Al- 
i though,  by  his  momentary  rolling  and  plunging,  he  was 
evidently  aroused,  yet  neither  Bruin  nor  his  burrow  was 
at  all  the  worse  for  all  the  wear  and  washing. 

5.  The  deep  fluting,  the  wrinkled  folds,  and  cavities, 
over    and    through   which  the    green   and    silvery  water 
rushed    back    into    the   sea,  rivaled    the   most    exquisite 
sculpture.     And  nature  not  only  gives  her  marbles,  with 
the  finest  lines,  the  most  perfect  lights  and  shades,  she 
colors  them  also.     She  is  no  monochromist,  but  polychroic, 
imparting  such  touches  of  dove  tints,  emerald,  and  azure 
as  she  bestows  upon  her  gems  and  skies. 


FIFTH    READER.  179 

6.  We  are  bearing  up  under  the  big  berg  as  closely 
as  we  dare.     To  our  delight,  what  we  have  been  wishing 
and  watching  for  is  actually  taking  place :  loud  explosions, 
with  heavy  falls  of  ice,  followed  by  the  cataract-like  roar,  and 
the  high,  thin  seas,  wheeling  away  beautifully  crested  with 
sparkling  foam.     If  it  is  possible,  imagine  the  effect  upon 
the  beholder :  this  precipice  of  ice,  with  tremendous  crack- 
ing, is  falling  toward  us  with  a  majestic  and  awful  motion. 

7.  Down  sinks  the  long  water  line  into  the  black  deep ; 
down  go  the  porcelain  crags  and  galleries  of  glassy  sculp- 
ture —  a  speechless  and  awful  baptism.     Now  it  pauses,  and 
returns:  up  rise  sculptures  and  crags  streaming  with  the 
shining  white  brine;    up  comes  the  great  encircling  line, 
followed  by  things  new  and  strange  —  crags,  niches,  bal- 
conies, and  caves ;  up,  up,  it  rises,  higher  and  higher  still, 
crossing  the  very  breast  of  the  grand  ice,  and  all  bathed 
with  rivulets  of  gleaming  foam.     Over  goes  the  summit, 
ridge,   pinnacles,   and  all,   standing  off   obliquely  in  the 
opposite  air.     Now  it  pauses  in  its  upward  roll:  back  it 
comes   again,  cracking,  cracking,  cracking,  "groaning  out 
harsh  thunder "  as  it  comes,  and  threatening  to  burst,  like 
a  mighty  bomb,  into  millions  of  glittering  fragments.     The 
spectacle  is  terrific  and  magnificent.     Emotion  is  irrepress- 
ible, and  peals  of  wild  hurrah  burst  forth  from  all. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Cone,  a  solid  body  having  a  circular  base,  from 
which  it  tapers  gradually  to  a  point.  2.  Swells,  waves.  3.  Se-ren'- 
fc-ty,  quietness,  calmness.  5.  Ex'qui-site,  exceedingly  nice,  giving 
rare  satisfaction.  Seulp'ture,  carved  work.  M6n'o-ehr6-mist,  one 
who  paints  in  a  single  color.  Pol-y-ehrd'ie,  given  to  the  use  of  many 
colors.  7.  Pin'na-eles,  high,  spirelike  points.  Ob-lique'ly,  slant- 
ingly. Ir-re-press'i-ble,  not  to  be  restrained. 

;NOTE. —  Only  about  one  eighth  of  an  iceberg  appears  above 
the  surface  of  the  water.  When  one  side  of  it  grows  heavier 
than  another,  through  unequal  melting  and  the  action  of  the 
waves,  the  whole  mass  rolls  over  in  the  water  in  the  manner  so 
well  described  in  this  lesson. 


180  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LVII.    ABOUT  QUAIL. 

William  Post  Hawes  (&.  1803,  d.1842)  was  born  in  New  York  City,  and 
was  a  graduate  of  Columbia  College.  He  was  a  lawyer  by  profession. 
His  writings  consist  mainly  of  essays,  contributed  to  various  newspapers 
and  magazines,  and  show  great  descriptive  power.  He  was  a  frequent 
contributor  to  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Times,"  under  the  title  of  "  Cypress,  Jr.," 
on  various  sporting  topics.  After  his  death  a  collection  of  his  writings 
was  published  in  two  volumes,  entitled,  "  Sporting  Scenes  "  and  "  Sundry 
Sketches." 

1.  THE  quail  is  peculiarly  a  domestic  bird,  and  is  at- 
tached to  his  birthplace  and  the  home  of  his  forefathers. 
The  various  members  of  the  aquatic  families  educate  their 
children  in  the  cool  summer  of  the  far  north,  and  bathe 
their  warm  bosoms  in  July  in  the  iced  waters  of  Hudson 
Bay ;  but  when  Boreas  scatters  the  rushes  where  they  had 
builded  their  bedchambers,  they  desert  their  fatherland,  and 
fly  to  disport  in  the  sunny  waters  of  the  south. 

2.  The  songsters  of  the  woodland,  when  their  customary 
crops  of  insects  and  berries  are  cut  off  in  the  fall,  gather 
themselves  to  renew  their  loves  and  get  married  in  more 
genial  climes.     Presently,  the  groves  so  vocal,  and  the  sky 
so  full,  shall  be  silent  and  barren.     The  "  melancholy  days  " 
will  soon  be  here ;  only  thou,  dear  Bob  White,  wilt  remain. 

3.  The  quail  is  the  bird  for  me.     He  is  no  rover,  no 
emigrant.     He  stays  at  home,  and  is  identified  with  the 
soil.     Where  the  farmer  works,  he   lives,  and  loves,  and 
whistles.      In  budding  springtime,  and  in  scorching  sum- 
mer —  in  bounteous  autumn,  and  in  barren  winter,  his  voice 
is  heard  from  the  same  bushy  hedge  fence,  and  from  his 
customary  cedars.     Cupidity  and  cruelty  may  drive  him 
to  the  woods,  and  to  seek  more  quiet  seats ;  but  be  merci- 
ful and  kind  to  him,  and  he  will  visit  your  barnyard,  and 
sing  for  you  upon  the  boughs  of  the  apple  tree  by  your 
gateway. 

4.  When  warm  May  first  wooes  the  young  flowers  to 
open  and  receive  her  breath,  then  begin  the  cares  and  re- 


FIFTH   READER. 


181 


sponsibilities  of  wedded  life.  Away  fly  the  happy  pair  to 
seek  some  grassy  tussock,  where,  safe  from  the  eye  of  the 
hawk  and  the  nose  of  the  fox,  they  may  rear  their  expectant 
brood  in  peace. 


182  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

5.  Oats  harvest  arrives,  and  the  fields  are  waving  with 
yellow  grain.     Now  be  wary,  0  kind-hearted  cradler,  and 
tread  not  into  those  pure  white  eggs  ready  to  burst  with 
life !     Soon  there  is   a  peeping   sound  heard,   and  lo !   a 
proud  mother  walketh  magnificently  in  the  midst  of  her 
children,  scratching  and  picking,  and  teaching  them  how 
to  swallow.     Happy  she,  if  she  may  be  permitted  to  bring 
them  up  to  maturity,  and  uncompelled  to  renew  her  joys 
in  another  nest. 

6.  The  assiduities  of  a  mother  have  a  beauty  and  a 
sacredness  about  them  that  command  respect  and  rever- 
ence in  all  animal  nature,  human  or  inhuman  —  what  a  lie 
does  that  word  carry — except,  perhaps,  in  monsters,  insects, 
and  fish.     I  never  yet  heard  of  the  parental  tenderness  of 
a  trout,  eating  up  his  little  baby,  nor  of  the  filial  gratitude 
of  a  spider,  nipping  the  life  out  of  his  gray-headed  father, 
and  usurping  his  web. 

7.  But  if  you  would  see  the  purest,  the  sincerest,  the 
most  affecting  piety  of  a  parent's   love,  startle  a  young 
family  of  quails,  and  watch  the  conduct  of  the  mother. 
She  will  not  leave  you.     No,  not  she.     But  she  will  fall 
at  your  feet,  uttering  a  noise  which  none  but  a  distressed 
mother  can  make,  and  she  will  run,  and  flutter,  and  seem 
to  try  to  be  caught,  and  cheat  your  outstretched  hand, 
and  affect  to  be  wing-broken  and  wounded,  and  yet  have 
just  strength  to  tumble  along,  until  she  has   drawn  you, 
fatigued,  a  safe  distance  from  her  threatened  children  and 
the  young  hopes  of  her  heart;  and  then  will  she  mount, 
whirring  with  glad  strength,  and  away  through  the  maze 
of  trees  you  have  not  seen  before,  like  a  close-shot  bullet, 
fly  to  her  skulking  infants. 

8.  Listen  now.     Do  you  hear  those  three  half-plaintive 
notes,  quickly  and  clearly  poured  out  ?     She  is  calling  the 
boys  and  girls  together.     She  sings  not  now  "  Bob  White ! " 
nor  "Ah!  Bob  White!"     That  is  her  husband's  love  call, 
or  his  trumpet  blast  of  defiance.     But  she  calls  sweetly  and 


FIFTH    READER.  183 

softly  for  her  lost  children.  Hear  them  "Peep!  peep! 
peep ! "  at  the  welcome  voice  of  their  mother's  love !  They 
are  coming  together.  Soon  the  whole  family  will  meet 
again. 

9.  It  is  a  foul  sin  to  disturb  them;  but  retread  your 
devious  way,  and  let  her  hear  your  coming  footsteps, 
breaking  down  the  briers,  as  you  renew  the  danger.  She 
is  quiet.  Not  a  word  is  passed  between  the  fearful  fugi- 
tives. Now,  if  you  have  the  heart  to  do  it,  lie  low,  keep 
still,  and  imitate  the  call  of  the  hen  quail.  0  mother  I 
mother!  how  your  heart  would  die  if  you  could  witness 
the  deception!  The  little  ones  raise  up  their  trembling 
heads,  and  catch  comfort  and  imagined  safety  from  the 
sound.  "  Peep !  peep ! "  They  come  to  you,  straining  their 
little  eyes,  and,  clustering  together  and  answering,  seem  to 
say,  "  Where  is  she  ?  Mother !  mother !  we  are  here ! " 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  A-quat'ie,  frequenting  the  water.  2.  Vo'eal, 
having  a  voice.  3.  I-den'ti-fled,  united.  Cu-pid'i-ty,  eager  desire  to 
possess  something.  4.  Tus'sock,  a  tuft  of  grass  or  twigs.  5.  Cra'dler, 
one  who  uses  a  cradle,  which  is  an  instrument  attached  to  a  scythe  in 
cutting  grain.  6.  U-surp'ing,  seizing  and  holding  in  possession  by 
force.  7.  Af-feet',  to  pretend.  9.  De'vi-ous,  winding. 

NOTE.  —  1.  Boreas  is  the  name  which  the  ancient  Greeks  gave 
to  the  north  wind. 


LVIII.  THE  BLUE  AND  THE  GRAY. 

1.   BY  the  flow  of  the  inland  river, 

Whence  the  fleets  of  iron  have  fled, 
Where  the  blades  of  the  grave  grass  quiver, 
Asleep  are  the  ranks  of  the  dead;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Cinder  the  one,  the  Blue; 
Under  the  other,  the  Gray. 


184  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  These,  in  the  robings  of  glory, 

Those,  in  the  gloom  of  defeat, 
All,  with  the  battle  blood  gory, 
In  the  dusk  of  eternity  meet;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Under  the  laurel,  the  Blue; 
Under  the  willow,  the  Gray. 

3.  From  the  silence  of  sorrowful  hours, 

The  desolate  mourners  go, 
Lovingly  laden  with  flowers, 

Alike  for  the  friend  and  the  foe;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 
Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Under  the  roses,  the  Blue; 
Under  the  lilies,  the  Gray. 

4.  So,  with  an  equal  splendor, 

The  morning  sun  rays  fall, 
With  a  touch,  impartially  tender, 
On  the  blossoms  blooming  for  all ;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Broidered  with  gold,  the  Blue; 
Mellowed  with  gold,  the  Gray. 

5.  So,  when  the  summer  calleth, 

On  forest  and  field  of  grain, 
With  an  equal  murmur  falleth 
The  cooling  drip  of  the  rain ;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Wet  with  the  rain,  the  Blue; 
Wet  with  the  rain,  the  Gray. 


FIFTH   READER.  185 

6.  Sadly,  but  not  with  upbraiding, 

The  generous  deed  was  done; 
In  the  storm  of  the  years  that  are  fading, 
~No  braver  battle  was  won;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Under  the  blossoms,  the  Blue; 
Under  the  garlands,  the  Gray. 

7.  No  more  shall  the  war  cry  sever, 

Or  the  winding  rivers  be  red; 
They  banish  our  anger  forever, 

When  they  laurel  the  graves  of  our  dead;  — 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day; 
Love  and  tears,  for  the  Blue; 
Tears  and  love,  for  the  Gray. 

—  F.  M.  Finch. 

NOTE.  —  The  above  touching  little  poem  first  appeared  in  the 
"  Atlantic  Monthly "  in  September,  1867.  It  commemorates  the 
noble  action  on  the  part  of  the  women  at  Columbus,  Miss.,  who 
in  decorating  the  graves  strewed  flowers  impartially  on  those  of 
the  Confederate  and  of  the  Federal  soldiers. 


LIX.  THE  MACHINIST'S  RETURN. 

[Adapted  from  a  letter  written  by  a  correspondent  of  the  Wash- 
ington "Capital."] 

1.  Ox  our  way  from  Springfield  to  Boston,  a  stout, 
black-whiskered  man  sat  immediately  in  front  of  me,  in 
the  drawing-room  car,  whose  maneuvers  were  a  source  of 
constant  amusement.  He  would  get  up  every  five  min- 
utes, hurry  away  to  the  narrow  passage  leading  to  the 


186  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

door  of  the  car,  and  commence  laughing  in  the  most  vio- 
lent manner,  continuing  that  healthful  exercise  until  he 
observed  that  some  one  was  watching  him,  when  he  would 
return  to  his  seat. 

2.  As  we  neared  Boston  these  demonstrations  increased 
in  frequency  and  violence,  but  the  stranger  kept  his  seat 
and  chuckled  to  himself.     He  shifted  the  position  of  his 
two  portmanteaus,  or  placed  them  on  the  seat  as  if  he  was 
getting  ready  to  leave.     As  we  were  at  least  twenty-five 
miles  from   Boston,   such   early  preparations   seemed  ex- 
tremely ridiculous.     He  became  so  excited  at  last  that  he 
could  not  keep  his  secret.     Some  one  must  be  made  a  con- 
fidant; and  as  I  happened  to  be  the  nearest  to  him,  he 
selected  me. 

3.  Turning  around  suddenly,  and  rocking  himself  to  and 
fro  in  his  chair,  he  said,  "I  have  been  away  from  home 
three  years.     Have  been  in  Europe.     My  folks  don't  ex- 
pect me  for  three  months  yet,  but  I   got  through  and 
started.     I  telegraphed  them  at  the  last  station  —  they  've 
got  the   dispatch  by  this  time."       As    he    said   this  he 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  changed  the  portmanteau  on  his 
left  to  the  right,  and  then  the  one  on  the  right  to  the 
left. 

4.  "  Have  you  a  wife  ?  "  said  I.     "  Yes,  and  three  chil- 
dren," was  the  answer.     He  then  got  up  and  folded  his 
overcoat  anew,  and  hung  it  over  the   back   of  the   seat. 
"You  are   somewhat  nervous   just  now,   are  you  not?" 
said  I. 

5.  "Well,  I  should  think  so,"  he  replied.     "I  have  n't 
slept  soundly  for  a  week.      Do  you  know,"  he  went  on, 
speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "I  am  almost  certain  this  train 
will  run  off  the  track  and  break  my  neck  before  I  get  to 
Boston.      I  have  had  too  much  good  luck  lately  for  one 
man.     It  can't  last.     It  rains  so  hard,  sometimes,  that  you 
think  it 's  never  going  to  stop ;  then  it  shines  so  bright  you 
think  it 's  always  going  to  shine ;  and  just  as  you  are  set- 


FIFTH   HEADER.  187 

tied  in  either  belief,  you  are  knocked  over  by  a  change,  to 
show  you  that  you  know  nothing  about  it." 

6.  "Well,  according  to  your  philosophy,"  I  said,  "you 
will  continue  to  have  sunshine  because  you  are  expecting 
a  storm."      "Perhaps  so,"  he  replied;  "but  it  is  curious 
that  the  only  thing  which  makes  me  think  I  shall  get 
through  safe  is,  I  fear  that  I  shall  not." 

7.  "I  am  a  machinist,"  he  continued;  "I  made  a  dis- 
covery; nobody  believed  in  it;  I  spent  all  my  money  in 
trying  to  bring  it  out;    I  mortgaged  my  home  —  every- 
thing went.     Everybody  laughed  at  me  —  everybody  but 
my  wife.     She  said  she  would  work  her  fingers  off  before 
I  should  give  it  up.     I  went  to  England.     At  first  I  met 
with   no    encouragement   whatever,   and   came   very  near 
jumping  off  London  Bridge.     I  went  into  a  workshop  to 
earn  money  enough  to  come  home  with:  there  I  met  the 
man  I  wanted.     To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  Ve  brought 
home  £50,000  with  me,  and  here  I  am." 

8.  "Good!"   I   exclaimed.      "Yes,"  said  he,  "and  the 
best  of  it  is,  she  knows  nothing  about  it.     She  has  been 
disappointed  so  often  that  I  concluded  I  would  not  write 
to  her  about  my  unexpected  good  luck.     When  I  got  my 
money,  though,  I  started  for  home  at  once." 

9.  "And  now,  I  suppose,  you  will  make  her  happy?" 
"  Happy ! "  he  replied  ;    "  why,  you  don't  know  anything 
about    it!     She's    worked    night   and   day  since    I    have 
been  in  England,  trying  to  support  herself  and  the  chil- 
dren decently.     They  paid  her  thirteen  cents  apiece  for 
making  shirts,  and  that 's  the  way  she  has  lived  half  the 
time.     She  '11  come  down  to  the  depot  to  meet  me  in  a 
gingham  dress  and  a  shawl  a  hundred  years  old,  and  she  '11 
think  she  's  dressed  Up!     Perhaps  she  won't  have  any  fine 
dresses  in  a  week  or  so,  eh  ?  " 

10.  The    stranger    then    strode    down    the    passageway 
again,  and  getting  in  a  corner  where  he  seemed  to  suppose 
that  he  was  out  of  sight,  went  through  the  strangest  pan- 


188  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

tomime,  —  laughing,  putting  his  mouth  into  the  drollest 
shapes,  and  swinging  himself  back  and  forth  in  the  limited 
space. 

11.  As  the  train  was  going  into  the  depot,  I  placed  my- 
self on  the  platform  of  the  car  in  front  of  the  one  in  which 
I  had  been  riding,  and  opposite  the  stranger,  who,  with  a 
portmanteau  in  each  hand,  was  standing  on  the  lowest  step, 
ready  to  jump  to  the  ground.     I  looked  from  his  face  to 
the  faces  of  the  people  before  us,  but  saw  no  sign  of  recog- 
nition.    Suddenly  he  cried,  "  There  they  are ! " 

12.  Then  he  laughed  outright,  but  in  a  hysterical  way, 
as  he  looked  over  the  crowd  in  front  of  him.     I  followed 
his  eye  and  saw,  some  distance  back,  as  if  crowded  out  by 
the  well-dressed  and  elbowing  throng,  a  little  woman  in  a 
faded  dress  and  a  well-worn  hat,  with  a  face  almost  painful 
in   its   intense  but  hopeful   expression,    glancing  rapidly 
from  window  to  window  as  the  coaches  passed  by. 

13.  She  had  not  seen  the  stranger,  but  a  moment  after 
she  caught  his  eye.     In  another  instant  he  had  jumped  to 
the  platform  with  his  two  portmanteaus,  and,  pushing  his 
way  through  the  crowd,  he  rushed  towards  the  place  where 
she  was  standing.     I  think  I  never  saw  a  face  assume  so 
many  different  expressions  in  so  short  a  time  as  did  that 
of  the  little  woman  while  her  husband  was  on  his  way  to 
meet  her. 

14.  She  was  not  pretty,  —  on  the  contrary,  she  was  very 
plain-looking;  but  somehow  I  felt  a  big  lump  rise  in  my 
throat  as  I  watched  her.      She  was  trying  to  laugh,  but, 
God  bless  her,  how  completely  she  failed  in  the  attempt ! 
Her  mouth  got  into  the  position  to  laugh,  but  it  never 
moved  after  that,  save  to  draw  down  at  the  corners  and 
quiver,  while  her  eyes  blinked  so  fast  that  I  suspect  she 
only  caught  occasional   glimpses  of  the  broad-shouldered 
fellow  who  elbowed  his  way  so  rapidly  toward  her. 

15.  As  he  drew  close,  and  dropped  the  portmanteaus, 
she  turned  to  one  side,  and  covered  her  face   with  her 


FIFTH   READER.  189 

hands ;  and  thus  she  was  when  the  strong  man  gathered 
her  up  in  his  arms  as  if  she  were  a  child,  and  held  her 
sobbing  to  his  breast. 

16.  There  were  enough  staring  at  them,  heaven  knows ; 
so  I  turned  my  eyes  away  a  moment,  and  then  I  saw  two 
boys  in  threadbare  roundabouts  standing  near,  wiping  their 
eyes  on  their  sleeves,  and  bursting  into  tears  anew  at 
every  fresh  demonstration  on  the  part  of  their  mother. 
When  I  looked  at  the  stranger  again  he  had  his  hat  drawn 
over  his  eyes;  but  his  wife  was  looking  up  at  him,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  pent-up  tears  of  those  weary  months  of 
waiting  were  streaming  through  her  eyelids. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ma-neu'vers,  movements.  2.  Dem-on-stra'- 
tions,  expression  of  the  feelings  by  outward  signs.  Port-man'teau 
(pro.  port-man'to),  a  traveling  bag,  usually  made  of  leather.  C5n-fi- 
dant',  one  to  whom  secrets  are  intrusted.  3.  Dis-patch',  a  message. 
6.  Phi-los'o-phy,  reasoning.  7.  MaHjhin'ist,  a  constructor  of  ma- 
chines and  engines.  Mort'gaged  (pro.  mor'gajd),  given  as  security 
for  debt.  9.  Ging'ham,  a  kind  of  cotton  cloth  which  is  dyed  before 
it  is  woven.  10.  Pan'to-mime,  acting  without  speaking,  dumb  show. 
12.  Hys-ter'ie-al,  convulsive,  jitful. 


LX.     MAKE  WAY  FOB  LIBERTY. 

James  Montgomery  (&.  1771,  d.  1854)  was  born  in  Irvine,  Ayrshire, 
•Scotland.  His  father,  a  Moravian  preacher,  sent  him  to  a  Moravian 
school  at  Fulneck,  Yorkshire,  England,  to  be  educated.  In  1794  he  started 
"The  Sheffield  Iris,"  a  weekly  paper,  which  he  edited,  with  marked 
ability,  till  1825.  He  was  fined  and  imprisoned  twice  for  publishing  ar 
tides  decided  to  be  seditious.  His  principal  poetical  works  are  "The 
World  before  the  Flood,"  "Greenland,"  "The  West  Indies,"  "  The  Wan- 
derer in  Switzerland,"  "The  Pelican  Island,"  and  "Original  Hymns,  for 
Public,  Private,  and  Social  Devotion."  Mr.  Montgomery's  style  is  gen- 
erally too  diffuse ;  but  its  smoothness  and  the  evident  sincerity  of  his 
emotions  have  made  many  of  his  hymns  and  minor  poems  very  popular. 
A  pension  of  £300  a  year  was  granted  to  him  in  1833. 

1.    "MAKE  way  for  Liberty!"  he  cried; 
Made  way  for  Liberty,  and  died! 


190  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

2.  In  arms  the  Austrian  phalanx  stood, 
A  living  wall,  a  human  wood ! 
A  wall,  where  every  conscious  stone 
Seemed  to  its  kindred  thousands  grown ; 
A  rampart  all  assaults  to  bear, 
Till  time  to  dust  their  frames  should  wear 
A  wood  like  that  enchanted  grove, 
In  which,  with  fiends,  Binaldo  strove, 
Where  every  silent  tree  possessed 
A  spirit  prisoned  in  its  breast, 
Which  the  first  stroke  of  coming  strife 
Would  startle  into  hideous  life : 
So  dense,  so  still,  the  Austrians  stood, 
A  living  wall,  a  human  wood! 


3.  Impregnable  their  front  appears, 
All  horrent  with  projected  spears, 
Whose  polished  points  before  them  shine, 
From  flank  to  flank,  one  brilliant  line, 
Bright  as  the  breakers'  splendors  run 
Along  the  billows  to  the  sun. 


4.  Opposed  to  these,  a  hovering  band, 
Contending  for  their  native  land; 
Peasants,  whose  new-found  strength  had  broke 
From  manly  necks  the  ignoble  yoke, 
And  forged  their  fetters  into  swords, 
On  equal  terms  to  fight  their  lords; 
And  what  insurgent  rage  had  gained, 
In  many  a  mortal  fray  maintained: 
Marshaled  once  more  at  Freedom's  call, 
They  came  to  conquer  or  to  fall, 
Where  he  who  conquered,  he  who  fell. 
Was  deemed  a  dead  or  living  Tell! 


FIFTH    READER.  191 

5.   And  now  the  work  of  life  and  death 
Hung  on  the  passing  of  a  breath; 
The  fire  of  conflict  burned  within; 
The  battle  trembled  to  begin; 
Yet,  while  the  Austrians  held  their  ground, 
Point  for  attack  was  nowhere  found; 
Where'er  the  impatient  Switzers  gazed, 
The  unbroken  line  of  lances  blazed; 
That  line  'twere  suicide  to  meet, 
And  perish  at  their  tyrants'  feet; 
How  could  they  rest  within  their  graves, 
And  leave  their  homes  the  homes  of  slaves? 
Would  they  not  feel  their  children  tread 
With  clanking  chains  above  their  head  ? 


6.   It  must  not  be:   this  day,  this  hour, 
Annihilates  the  oppressor's  power 
All  Switzerland  is  in  the  field, 
She  will  not  fly,  she  can  not  yield; 
Few  were  the  numbers  she  could  boast 
But  every  freeman  was  a  host, 
And  felt  as  though  himself  were  he 
On  whose  sole  arm  hung  victory. 


7.   It  did  depend  on  one,  indeed : 
Behold  him!   Arnold  Winkelried! 
There  sounds  not  to  the  trump  of  fame 
The  echo  of  a  nobler  name. 
Unmarked  he  stood  amid  the  throng, 
In  rumination  deep  and  long, 
Till  you  might  see  with  sudden  grace, 
The  very  thought  come  o'er  his  face; 
And  by  the  motion  of  his  form, 
Anticipate  the  bursting  storm; 


192  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

And  by  the  uplifting  of  his  brow, 
Tell  where  the  bolt  would  strike,  and  how. 
But  'twas  no  sooner  thought  than  done; 
The  field  was  in  a  moment  won. 


8.   "Make  way  for  Liberty!"  he  cried: 
Then  ran,  with  arms  extended  wide, 
As  if  his  dearest  friend  to  clasp; 
Ten  spears  he  swept  within  his  grasp: 
"Make  way  for  Liberty!"  he  cried, 
Their  keen  points  met  from  side  to  side; 
He  bowed  among  them  like  a  tree, 
And  thus  made  way  for  Liberty. 


9.   Swift  to  the  breach  his  comrades  fly; 
"  Make  way  for  Liberty  ! "  they  cry, 
And  through  the  Austrian  phalanx  dart, 
As  rushed  the  spears  through  Arnold's  heart; 
While  instantaneous  as  his  fall, 
Rout,  ruin,  panic,  scattered  all. 
An  earthquake  could  not  overthrow 
A  city  with  a  surer  blow. 


10.   Thus  Switzerland  again  was  free, 
Thus  Death  made  way  for  Liberty! 


DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Pha'lanx,  a  body  of  troops  formed  in  dost 
array.  Con'scious,  sensible,  knowing.  Kin'dred,  those  of  like  nature, 
relatives.  Ram'part,  that  which  defends  from  assault,  a  bulwark. 
3.  Im-preg'na-ble,  that  can  not  be  moved  or  shaken.  Hor'rent,  stand- 
ing out  like  bristles.  4.  In-sur'gent,  rising  in  opposition  to  authority. 
6.  An-ni'hi-lates,  destroys.  7.  Ru-mi-na'tion,  the  act  of  musing,  med- 
itation. 9.  Breach,  a  gap  or  opening  made  by  breaking. 


FIFTH   READER.  193 

NOTES.  —  The  incident  related  in  this  poem  is  one  of  actual 
occurrence,  and  took  place  at  the  battle  of  Sempach,  fought  in 
1386  A.D.,  between  only  1,300  Swiss  and  a  large  army  of  Austri- 
ans.  The  latter  had  obtained  possession  of  a  narrow  pass  in  the 
mountains,  from  which  it  seemed  impossible  to  dislodge  them 
until  Arnold  von  Winkelried  made  a  breach  in  their  line,  as 
narrated. 

Rinaldo  is  a  knight  in  Tasso's  "  Jerusalem  Delivered  "  (Canto 
xvin,  17-40),  who  enters  an  enchanted  wood,  and,  by  cutting 
down  a  tree  in  spite  of  the  nymphs  and  phantoms  that  endeavor 
in  every  way  to  stop  him,  breaks  the  spell;  the  Christian  army 
are  thus  enabled  to  enter  the  grove  and  obtain  timber  for  their 
engines  of  war. 


LXI.   THE  ENGLISH  SKYLARK. 

Elihu  Burritt  (&.  1810,  d.  1879),  "the  learned  blacksmith,"  was  born 
in  New  Britain,  Conn.  His  father  was  a  shoemaker.  Having  received 
only  a  limited  amount  of  instruction  at  the  district  school,  he  was 
apprenticed  to  a  blacksmith  about  1827.  During  his  apprenticeship  he 
labored  hard  at  self-instruction.  He  worked  at  his  trade  many  years, 
from  ten  to  twelve  hours  each  day,  but  managed,  in  the  meantime,  to 
acquire  a  knowledge  of  many  ancient  and  modern  languages.  He  made 
translations  from  several  of  these,  which  were  published  in  the  "  Ameri- 
can Eclectic  Review."  In  1844  he  commenced  the  publication  of  "The 
Christian  Citizen."  His  leading  literary  works  are  "Sparks  from  the 
Anvil,"  "A  Voice  from  the  Forge,"  "Peace  Papers,"  and  "Walks  to 
John  o'  Groat's  House."  From  the  last  of  these  the  following  selection 
is  abridged. 

1.  TAKE  it  in  all,  no  bird  in  either  hemisphere  equals 
the  English   lark    in   heart   o?   voice,  for   both   unite  to 
make  ifc  the  sweetest,  the  happiest,  the  welcomest  singer 
that  was  ever  winged,  like  the  high  angels  of  God's  love. 
It  is  the  living  ecstasy  of  joy  when  it  mounts  up  into  its 
*  glorious  privacy  of  light." 

2.  On  the  earth  it  is  timid,  silent,  and  bashful,  as  if 
not  at  home,  and  not  sure  of  its  right  to  be  there  at  all. 
It  is  rather  homely  withal,  having  nothing  in  feather,  fea- 

(5.— 13.) 


194  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

ture,  or  form  to  attract  notice.  It  is  seemingly  made  to 
be  heard,  not  seen,  reversing  the  old  axiom  addressed  to 
children  when  getting  noisy. 

3.  Its  mission  is  music,  and  it  floods  a  thousand  acres 
of  the  blue  sky  with  it  several  times  a  day.     Out  of  that 
palpitating  speck  of  living  joy  there  wells  forth  a  sea  of 
twittering  ecstasy  upon  the  morning  and  evening  air.     It 
does  not  ascend  by  gyrations,  like  the  eagle  and  birds  of 
prey.     It  mounts  up  like  a  human  aspiration. 

4.  It  seems  to  spread  its  wings  and  to  be  lifted  straight 
upwards  out  of  sight  by  the  afflatus  of  its  own  happy  heart. 
To  pour  out  this  in  undulating  rivulets   of  rhapsody  is 
apparently  the  only  motive  of  its  ascension.     This  it  is 
that  has  made  it  so  loved  of  all  generations. 

5.  It  is  the  singing  angel  of  man's  nearest  heaven,  whose 
vital  breath  is  music.     Its  sweet  warbling  is  only  the  met- 
rical palpitation  of  its  life  of  joy.     It  goes  up  over  the 
rooftrees  of  the  rural  hamlet  on  the  wings  of  its  song,  as 
if  to  train  the  human  soul  to  trial  flights  heavenward. 

6.  Never  did  the  Creator  put  a  voice  of  such  volume 
into  so  small  a  living  thing.     It  is  a  marvel  —  almost  a 
miracle.     In  a  still  hour  you  can  hear  it  at  nearly  a  mile's 
distance.     When  its  form  is  lost  in  the  hazy  lace  work  of 
the  sun's  rays  above,  it  pours  down  upon  you  all  the  thrill- 
ing semitones  of  its  song  as  distinctly  as  if  it  were  warbling 
to  you  in  your  window. 


DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ee'sta-sy,  overmastering  joy,  rapture.  2.  Ax'- 
i-om,  a  self-evident  truth.  3.  Pal'pi-tat-ing,  throbbing,  fluttering. 
Wells,  pours,  flows.  Gy-ra'tions,  circular  or  spiral  motions.  4.  Af- 
fla'tus,  breath,  inspiration.  Un'du-la-ting,  rising  and  falling  like 
waves.  Rhap'sody,  that  which  is  uttered  in  a  disconnected  way  under 
strong  excitement.  Gen-er-a'tion,  the  mass  of  beings  living  at  one 
period.  5.  Met'rie-al,  arranged  in  measures,  as  poetry  and  music. 
R<5of'tree,  the  beam  in  the  angle  of  a  roof,  hence  the  "oof  itself. 
Ham'let,  a  little  cluster  of  houses- 


FIFTH   READER.  195 


LXII.    HOW  SLEEP  THE  BRAVE. 

William  Collins  (6.  1721,  d.  1759)  was  born  at  Chichester,  England. 
He  was  educated  at  Winchester  and  Oxford.  About  1745,  he  went  to 
London  as  a  literary  adventurer,  and  there  won  the  esteem  of  Dr. 
Johnson.  His  "Odes"  were  published  in  1746,  but  were  not  popular. 
He  was  subsequently  relieved  from  pecuniary  embarrassment  by  a  legacy 
of  £2,000  from  a  maternal  uncle;  but  he  soon  became  partially  insane, 
and  was  for  some  time  confined  in  an  asylum  for  lunatics.  He  after- 
wards retired  to  Chichester,  where  he  was  cared  for  by  his  sister  until 
his  death. 

1.  How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest 
By  all  their  country's  wishes  blessed ! 
When  Spring,  with  dewy  fingers  cold, 
Returns  to  deck  their  hallowed  mold, 
She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod 
Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 

2.  By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  rung; 
By  forms  unseen  their  dirge  is  sung; 
There  Honor  comes  a  pilgrim  gray, 

To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay; 
And  Freedom  shall  awhile  repair 
To  dwell  a  weeping  hermit  there! 


LXIII.    THE  RAINBOW. 

John  Keble  (&.  1792,  d.  1866)  was  born  near  Fairfax,  Gloucestershire, 
England.  He  graduated  at  Oxford  with  remarkably  high  honors,  and 
afterwards  was  appointed  to  the  professorship  of  poetry  in  that  uni- 
versity. Since  his  death,  Keble  College,  at  Oxford,  has  been  erected  to 
his  memory.  In  1835,  he  became  vicar  of  Hursley  and  rector  of  Otter- 
bourne,  and  held  these  livings  until  his  death.  His  most  famous  work  is 
"  The  Christian  Year,"  a  collection  of  sacred  poems. 

1.    A  FRAGMENT  of  a  rainbow  bright 

Through  the  moist  air  I  see, 
All  dark  and  damp  on  yonder  height^ 
All  bright  and  clear  to  me. 


196  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  An  hour  ago  the  storm  was  here, 

The  gleam  was  far  behind; 
So  will  our  joys  and  grief  appear, 
When  earth  has  ceased  to  blind. 

3.  Grief  will  be  joy  if  on  its  edge 

Fall  soft  that  holiest  ray, 
Joy  will  be  grief  if  no  faint  pledge 
Be  there  of  heavenly  day. 


LXIV.    SUPPOSED  SPEECH  OP  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Daniel  Webster  (&.  1782,  d.  1852)  was  born  in  Salisbury,  N.H.  He 
spent  a  few  months  of  his  boyhood  at  Phillips  Academy,  Exeter,  but 
fitted  for  college  under  Rev.  Samuel  Wood,  of  Boscawen,  N.H.  He 
graduated  from  Dartmouth  College  in  1801.  He  taught  school  several 
terms,  during  and  after  his  college  course.  In  1805,  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  in  Boston,  and  practiced  law  in  New  Hampshire  for  the  suc- 
ceeding eleven  years.  In  1812,  he  was  elected  to  the  United  States 
House  of  Representatives.  In  1816,  he  removed  to  Boston,  and  in  1827 
was  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate,  which  position  he  held  for 
twelve  years.  In  1841,  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State.  He  returned 
to  the  Senate  in  1845.  In  1850,  he  was  reappointed  Secretary  of  State, 
and  continued  in  office  until  his  death.  He  died  at  his  residence,  in 
Marshfield,  Mass.  Mr.  Webster's  fame  rests  chiefly  on  his  state  papers 
and  speeches.  As  a  speaker  he  was  dignified  and  stately,  using  clear, 
pure  English.  During  all  his  life  he  took  great  interest  in  agriculture, 
and  was  very  fond  of  outdoor  sports. 

1.  SINK  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  perish,  I  give 
my  hand  and  my  heart  to  this  vote.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that, 
in  the  beginning,  we  aimed  not  at  independence.  But 

"  There  's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends." 

The  injustice  of  England  has  driven  us  to  arms;  and, 
blinded  to  her  own  interest,  she  has  obstinately  persisted, 
till  independence  is  now  within  our  grasp.  We  have  but 
to  reach  forth  to  it,  and  it  is  ours.  Why  then  should  we 


FIFTH   READER.  197 

defer  the  declaration  ?  Is  any  man  so  weak  as  now  to 
hope  for  a  reconciliation  with  England,  which  shall  leave 
either  safety  to  the  country  and  its  liberties,  or  security  to 
his  own  life  and  his  own  honor !  Are  not  you,  sir,  who 
sit  in  that  chair,  is  not  he,  our  venerable  colleague,  near 
you,  are  you  not  both  .already  the  proscribed  and  pre- 
destined objects  of  punishment  and  of  vengeance  ?  Cut  off 
from  all  hope  of  royal  clemency,  what  are  you,  what  can 
you  be,  while  the  power  of  England  remains,  but  outlaws  ? 

2.  If  we  postpone  independence,  do  we  mean  to  carry  on, 
or  to  give  up,  the  war  ?    Do  we  mean  to  submit,  and  con- 
sent that  we  shall  be  ground  to  powder,  and  our  country 
and  its  rights  trodden  down  in  the  dust?     I  know  we  do 
not  mean  to  submit.     We  NEVER  shall  submit  !    Do  we  in- 
tend to  violate  that  most  solemn  obligation  ever  entered 
into  by   men,  that  plighting,  before   God,  of  our   sacred 
honor  to  Washington,  when,  putting  him  forth  to  incur  the 
dangers  of  war,  as  well  as  the  political  hazards  of  the  times, 
we  promised  to  adhere  to  him  in  every  extremity  with  our 
fortunes  and  our  lives  ?    I  know  there  is  not  a  man  here, 
who  would  not  rather  see  a  general  conflagration  sweep  over 
the  land,  or  an  earthquake  sink  it,  than  one  jot  or  tittle 
of  that  plighted  faith   fall  to  the   ground.    For  myself, 
having  twelve  months  ago,  in  this  place,  moved  you  that 
George  Washington  be  appointed  commander  of  the  forces 
raised,  or  to  be  raised,  for  the  defense  of  American  liberty ; 
may  my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning,  and  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  if  I  hesitate  or  waver  in 
the  support  I  give  him. 

3.  The  war,  then,  must  go  on.     We  must  fight  it  through. 
And  if  the  war  must  go  on,  why  put  off  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  ?    That  measure  will  strengthen  us.     It  will 
give  us  character  abroad.    Nations  will  then  treat  with  us, 
which  they  never  can  do  while  we  acknowledge  ourselves 
subjects  in  arms  against  our  sovereign.     Nay,  I  maintain 
that  England  herself  will  sooner  treat  for  peace  with  us 


198  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

on  the  footing  of  independence,  than  consent,  by  repealing 
her  acts,  to  acknowledge  that  her  whole  conduct  toward  us 
has  been  a  course  of  injustice  and  oppression.  Her  pride 
will  be  less  wounded  by  submitting  to  that  course  of  things, 
which  now  predestinates  our  independence,  than  by  yielding 
the  points  in  controversy  to  her  rebellious  subjects.  The 
former,  she  would  regard  as  the  result  of  fortune ;  the  latter, 
she  would  feel  as  her  own  deep  disgrace.  Why,  then,  do 
we  not  change  this  from  a  civil  to  a  national  war?  And 
since  we  must  fight  it  through,  why  not  put  ourselves  in 
a  state  to  enjoy  all  the  benefits  of  victory,  if  we  gain  the 
victory. 

4.  If  we  fail,  it  can  be  no  worse  for  us.     But  we  shall 
not  fail.     The  cause  will  raise  up  armies;  the  cause  will 
create  navies.     The  people  —  the  people,  if  we  are  true  to 
them,  will  carry  us,  and  will  carry  themselves,  gloriously 
through  this  struggle.     I  care  not  how  fickle  other  people 
have  been  found.      I  know  the  people  of  these  colonies ; 
and  I  know  that  resistance  to  British  aggression  is  deep 
and  settled  in  their  hearts,  and   can   not  be   eradicated. 
Sir,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  will  inspire  the  peo- 
ple with  increased  courage.     Instead  of  a  long  and  bloody 
war  for  the  restoration  of  privileges,  for  redress  of  griev- 
ances, for  chartered  immunities,  held  under  a  British  king, 
set  before  them  the  glorious  object  of  entire  independence, 
and  it  will  breathe  into  them  anew  the  spirit  of  life. 

5.  Eead  this  declaration  at  the  head  of  the  army ;  every 
sword  will  be  drawn,  and  the  solemn  vow  uttered  to  main- 
tain it,  or  perish  on  the  bed  of  honor.     Publish   it  from 
the  pulpit;   religion  will  approve  it,  and  the   love   of  re- 
ligious liberty  will  cling  around  it,  resolved  to  stand  with 
it  or  fall  with  it.     Send  it  to  the  public  halls ;  proclaim  it 
there;   let  them  see  it  who  saw  their  brothers   and  their 
sons  fall  on  the  field  of  Bunker  Hill  and  in  the  streets  of 
Lexington  and  Concord,  and  the  very  walls  will  cry  out  in 
its  support. 


FIFTH   READER.  199 

6.  Sir,  I  know  the  uncertainty  of  human  affairs,  but  I 
see  —  I  see  clearly  through  this  day's  business.     You  and  I, 
indeed,  may  rue  it.     We  may  not  live  to  see  the  time  this 
declaration  shall  be  made  good.     We  may  die;   die  colo- 
nists;  die   slaves;    die,  it  may  be,  ignominiously   and  on 
the  scaffold.     Be  it  so:  be  it  so.     If  it  be  the  pleasure  of 
Heaven  that  my  country  shall  require  the   poor  offering 
of  my  life,  the  victim   shall  be  ready  at  the   appointed 
ttour  of  sacrifice,  come  when  that  hour  may.     But  while  I 
do  live,  let  me  have  a  country,  or  at  least  the  hope  of  a 
country,  and  that  a  FREE  country. 

7.  But  whatever  may  be  our  fate,  be   assured — be  as- 
sured that  this  Declaration  will  stand.     It  may  cost  treas- 
ure, and  it  may  cost  blood;   but  it  will  stand,  and  it  will 
richly  compensate  for  both.     Through  the  thick  gloom  of 
the  present  I  see  the  brightness  of  the  future  as  the  sun 
in  heaven.     We   shall  make  this  a  glorious,  an  immortal 
day.     When  we  are  in  our  graves,  our  children  will  honor 
it.     They  will  celebrate   it  with  thanksgiving,  with  fes- 
tivity, with  bonfires,  and  illuminations.     On  its  annual  re- 
turn, they  will  shed  tears, — copious,  gushing  tears;  not  of 
subjection  and  slavery,  not  of  agony  and  distress,  but  of 
exultation,  of  gratitude,  and  of  joy. 

8.  Sir,  before  God   I   believe   the   hour   is  come.      My 
judgment  approves  the  measure,  and  my   whole  heart  is 
in  it.     All  that  I  have,  and  all  that  I  am,  and  all  that 
I  hope  in  this  life,  I  am  now  ready  here  to   stake  upon 
it;   and  I  leave  off  as  I  began,  that,  live   or   die,  survive 
or  perish,   I   am   for   the    Declaration.     It   is   my   living 
sentiment,  and,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it   shall  by  my 
dying   sentiment;    independence   now,   and  INDEPENDENCE 

FOREVER. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ree-on-<?il-i-a'tion,  renewal  of  friendship. 
Col'league  (pro.  kol'leg),  an  associate  in  some  civil  office.  Pro- 
scribed', doomed  to  destruction,  put  out  of  the  protection  of  the  law. 
Pre-des'tined,  decreed  beforehand.  Clem'en-^y,  mercy,  indulgence. 


200  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Tit/tie,  a  small  particle,  a  jot.  3.  Con'tro-ver-sy,  dispute,  de- 
bate. 4.  E-rad'i-eat-ed,  rooted  out.  Re-dress',  deliverance  from 
wrong,  injury,  or  oppression.  Char'tered,  secured  by  an  instrument 
in  writing  from  a  king  or  other  proper  authority.  Im-mu'ni-ty, 
freedom  from  any  duly,  tax,  imposition,  etc.  7.  Com'pen-sate,  make 
amends  for. 

NOTES.  —  Mr.  Webster,  in  a  speech  upon  the  life  and  character 
of  John  Adams,  imagines  some  one  opposed  to  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  to  have  stated  his  fears  and  objections  before 
Congress  while  deliberating  on  that  subject.  He  then  supposes 
Mr.  Adams  to  have  replied  in  the  language  above. 

1.   The  quotation  is  from  "Hamlet,"  Act  V,  Scene  2. 

You,  sir,  who  sit  in  that  chair.  This  was  addressed  to  John 
Hancock,  president  of  the  Continental  Congress.  Our  venerable 
colleague  refers  to  Samuel  Adarns.  After  the  battles  of  Concord 
and  Lexington,  Governor  Gage  offered  pardon  to  all  the  rebels 
who  would  lay  down  their  arms,  excepting  Samuel  Adams  and 
John  Hancock. 


LXV.    THE  RISING. 

Thomas  Buchanan  Read  (6. 1822,  d.  1872)  was  born  in  Chester  County, 
Pennsylvania.  In  1839  he  entered  a  sculptor's  studio  in  Cincinnati,  where 
he  gained  reputation  as  a  portrait  painter.  He  afterwards  went  to  New 
York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia,  and,  in  1850,  to  Italy.  He  divided  his 
time  between  Cincinnati,  Philadelphia,  and  Rome,  in  the  later  years  of 
his  life.  Some  of  his  poems  are  marked  by  vigor  and  strength,  while 
others  are  distinguished  by  smoothness  and  delicacy.  The  following 
selection  is  abridged  from  "  The  Wagoner  of  the  Alleghanies." 

1.  OUT  of  the  North  the  wild  news  came, 
Far  flashing  on  its  wings  of  flame, 
Swift  as  the  boreal  light  which  flies 
At  midnight  through  the  startled  skies. 

2.  And  there  was  tumult  in  the  air, 

The  fife's  shrill  note,  the  drum's  loud  beat, 
And  through  the  wide  land  everywhere 
The  answering  tread  of  hurrying  feet, 


FIFTH  EEADER.  201 

While  the  first  oath  of  Freedom's  gun 
Came  on  the  blast  from  Lexington. 
And  Concord,  roused,  no  longer  tame, 
Forgot  her  old  baptismal  name, 
Made  bare  her  patriot  arm  of  power, 
And  swelled  the  discord  of  the  hour. 

3.   The  yeoman  and  the  yoeman's  son, 

With  knitted  brows  and  sturdy  dint, 
Renewed  the  polish  of  each  gun, 

Keoiled  the  lock,  reset  the  flint; 
And  oft  the  maid  and  matron  there, 
While  kneeling  in  the  firelight  glare, 
Long  poured,  with  half-suspended  breath, 
The  lead  into  the  molds  of  death. 


4.  The  hands  by  Heaven  made  silken  soft 

To  soothe  the  brow  of  love  or  pain, 
Alas !   are  dulled  and  soiled  too  oft 

By  some  unhallowed  earthly  stain; 
But  under  the  celestial  bound 
No  nobler  picture  can  be  found 
Than  woman,  brave  in  word  and  deed, 
Thus  serving  in  her  nation's  need: 
Her  love  is  with  her  country  now, 
Her  hand  is  on  its  aching  brow. 

5.  Within  its  shade  of  elm  and  oak 

The  church  of  Berkley  Manor  stood: 
There  Sunday  found  the  rural  folk, 

And  some  esteemed  of  gentle  blood. 
In  vain  their  feet  with  loitering  tread 

Passed  'mid  the  graves  where  rank  is  naught: 

All  could  not  read  the  lesson  taught 
In  that  republic  of  the  dead. 


202  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

6.  The  pastor  rose:  the  prayer  was  strong; 
The  psalm  was  warrior  David's  song; 
The  text,  a  few  short  words  of  might, — 
"The  Lord  of  hosts  shall  arm  the  right!" 

7.  He  spoke  of  wrongs  too  long  endured, 
Of  sacred  rights  to  be  secured; 
Then  from  his  patriot  tongue  of  flame 
The  startling  words  for  Freedom  came. 
The  stirring  sentences  he  spake 
Compelled  the  heart  to  glow  or  quake, 
And,  rising  on  his  theme's  broad  wing, 

And  grasping  in  his  nervous  hand 

The  imaginary  battle  brand, 
In  face  of  death  he  dared  to  fling 
Defiance  to  a  tyrant  king. 

8.  Even  as  he  spoke,  his  frame,  renewed 
In  eloquence  of  attitude, 

Kose,  as  it  seemed,  a  shoulder  higher; 
Then  swept  his  kindling  glance  of  fire 
From  startled  pew  to  breathless  choir; 
When  suddenly  his  mantle  wide 
His  hands  impatient  flung  aside, 
And,  lo!   he  met  their  wondering  eyes 
Complete  in  all  a  warrior's  guise. 

9.  A  moment  there  was  awful  pause, — 

When  Berkley  cried,  "Cease,  traitor!   cease 
God's  temple  is  the  house  of  peace!" 
The  other  shouted,  "Nay,  not  so, 
When  God  is  with  our  righteous  cause: 
His  holiest  places  then  are  ours, 
His  temples  are  our  forts  and  towers 
That  frown  upon  the  tyrant  foe: 
In  this  the  dawn  of  Freedom's  day 
There  is  a  time  to  fight  and  pray!" 


FIFTH    READER.  203 

10.  And  now  before  the  open  door  — 

The  warrior  priest  had  ordered  so  — 
The  enlisting  trumpet's  sudden  soar 
Rang  through  the  chapel,  o'er  and  o'er, 

Its  long  reverberating  blow, 
So  loud  and  clear,  it  seemed  the  ear 
Of  dusty  death  must  wake  and  hear. 
And  there  the  startling  drum  and  fife 
Fired  the  living  with  fiercer  life; 
While  overhead  with  wild  increase, 
Forgetting  its  ancient  toll  of  peace, 

The  great  bell  swung  as  ne'er  before: 
It  seemed  as  it  would  never  cease; 
And  every  word  its  ardor  flung 
From  off  its  jubilant  iron  tongue 

Was,  "WAR!   WAR!  WAR!" 

11.  "Who  dares"  —  this  was  the  patriot's  cry, 

As  striding  from  the  desk  he  came  — 
"Come  out  with  me,  in  Freedom's  name, 

For  her  to  live,  for  her  to  die?" 

A  hundred  hands  flung  up  reply, 

V  hundred  voices  answered  "//" 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Bo're-al,  northern.  3.  Yeo'man,  a  freeholder, 
a  man  freeborn.  Dint,  stroke.  5.  Man'or,  a  tract  of  land  occupied 
by  tenants.  Gen' tie  (pro.  jen'tl),  well  born,  of  good  family. I 
7.  Theme,  a  subject  on  which  a  person  speaks  or  writes.  8.  Guise, 
external  appearance  in  manner  or  dress.  10.  Soar,  a  towering  flight. 

NOTES.  —  2.  Forgot  her  .  .  .  name.  The  reference  is  to  the 
meaning  of  the  word  "concord,"  —  harmony,  union. 

4.    Celestial  bound ;  i.e.,  the  sky,  heaven. 

6.  The  pastor.  This  was  John  Peter  Gabriel  Muhlenberg,  who 
was  at  this  time  a  minister  at  Woodstock,  in  Virginia.  He  was 
a  leading  spirit  among  those  opposed  to  Great  Britain,  and  in 
1775  he  was  elected  colonel  of  a  Virginia  regiment.  The  above 


204  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

poem  describes  his  farewell  sermon.  At  its  close  he  threw  off  his 
ministerial  gown,  and  appeared  in  full  regimental  dress.  Almost 
every  man  in  the  congregation  enlisted  under  him  at  the  church 
door.  Muhlenberg  became  a  well-known  general  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  after  the  war  served  his  country  in  Congress  and  in 
various  official  positions. 


LXVI.    CONTROL  YOUR  TEMPER. 

John  Todd,  D.D.  (6.  1800,  d.  1873) ,  was  born  in  Rutland,  Vt.  In  1842, 
he  was  settled  as  a  pastor  of  a  Congregational  Church,  in  Pittsfield, 
Mass.  In  1834,  he  published  "Lectures  to  Children";  in  1835,  "The 
Student's  Manual,"  a  valuable  and  popular  work,  which  has  been  trans- 
lated into  several  European  languages;  in  1836,  "The  Sabbath-School 
Teacher  "  ;  and  in  1841,  "  The  Lost  Sister  of  Wyoming."  He  was  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  Mount  Holyoke  Female  Seminary. 

1.  No  one  has  a  temper  naturally  so  good,  that  it  does 
not  need  attention  and  cultivation,  and  no  one  has  a  tem- 
per so  bad,  but  that,  by  proper  culture,  it  may  become 
pleasant.     One  of  the  best  disciplined  tempers  ever  seen, 
was  that  of  a  gentleman  who  was  naturally  quick,  irritable, 
rash,  and  violent ;  but,  by  having  the  care  of  the  sick,  and 
especially  of  deranged  people,  he  so  completely  mastered 
himself  that  he  was  never  known  to  be  thrown  off  his 
guard. 

2.  The  difference  in  the  happiness  which  is  received  or 
bestowed  by  the  man  who  governs  his  temper,  and  that  by 
the  man  who  does  not,  is  immense.     There  is  no  misery  so 
constant,  so  distressing,  and  so  intolerable  to  others,  as  that 
of  having  a  disposition  which  is  your  master,  and  which 
is  continually  fretting  itself.     There  are  corners  enough,  at 
every  turn  in  life,  against  which  we  may  run,  and  at  which 
we  may  break  out  in  impatience,  if  we  choose. 

3.  Look  at  Koger   Sherman,  who  rose  from  a  humble 
occupation  to  a  seat  in  the  first  Congress  of  the  United 
States,  and  whose  judgment  was  received  with  great  defer- 


FIFTH   READER.  205 

ence  by  that  body  of  distinguished  men.  He  made  himself 
master  of  his  temper,  and  cultivated  it  as  a  great  business 
in  life.  There  are  one  or  two  instances  which  show  this 
part  of  his  character  in  a  light  that  is  beautiful. 

4.  One  day,  after  having  received  his  highest  honors, 
he  was    sitting   and    reading   in   his    parlor.     A    roguish 
student,  in  a  room  close  by,  held  a  looking-glass  in  such 
a  position  as  to  pour  the  reflected  rays  of  the  sun  directly 
in  Mr.    Sherman's  face.     He  moved    his   chair,   and  the 
thing  was  repeated.     A  third  time  the  chair  was  moved, 
but  the  looking-glass  still  reflected  the  sun  in  his  eyes. 
He  laid  aside  his  book,  went  to  the  window,  and  many 
witnesses  of  the  impudence  expected  to  hear  the  ungentle- 
manly  student  severely  reprimanded.     He  raised  the  win- 
dow gently,  and  then  —  shut  the  window  blind ! 

5.  I  can  not  forbear  adducing  another  instance  of  the 
power  he  had  acquired  over  himself.     He  was  naturally 
possessed  of  strong  passions ;  but  over  these  he  at  length 
obtained  an  extraordinary  control.     He  became  habitually 
calm,  sedate,  and  self-possessed.     Mr.  Sherman  was  one  of 
those  men  who  are  not  ashamed  to  maintain  the  forms  of 
religion  in  their  families.     One  morning  he  called  them 
all  together,  as  usual,  to  lead  them  in  prayer  to  God ;  the 
"  old  family  Bible  "  was  brought  out,  and  laid  on  the  table. 

6.  Mr.  Sherman  took  his  seat,  and  placed  beside  him 
one  of  his  children,  a  child  of  his  old  age ;  the  rest  of  the 
family  were  seated  around  the  room  ;  several  of  these  were 
now  grown  up.     Besides  these,  some  of  the  tutors  of  the 
college  were  boarders  in  the  family,  and  were  present  at 
the  time  alluded  to.     His  aged  and  superannuated  mother 
occupied  a  corner  of  the  room,  opposite  the  place  where 
the  distinguished  judge  sat. 

7.  At  length,  he  opened  the  Bible,  and  began  to  read. 
The  child  who  was  seated  beside  him   made  some  little 
disturbance,  upon  which  Mr.  Sherman  paused  and  told  it 
to  be  still.     Again  he  proceeded;  but  again  he  paused  to 


206  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

reprimand  the  little  offender,  whose  playful  disposition 
would  scarcely  permit  it  to  be  still.  And  this  time  he 
gently  tapped  its  ear.  The  blow,  if  blow  it  might  be 
called,  caught  the  attention  of  his  aged  mother,  who  now, 
with  some  effort,  rose  from  the  seat,  and  tottered  across 
the  room.  At  length  she  reached  the  chair  of  Mr.  Sher- 
man, and,  in  a  moment,  most  unexpectedly  to  him,  she 
gave  him  a  blow  on  the  ear  with  all  the  force  she  could 
summon.  "  There,"  said  she,  "  you  strike  your  child,  and 
I  will  strike  mine." 

8.  For  a  moment,  the  blood  was  seen  mounting  to  the 
face  of  Mr.  Sherman ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  when 
all  was  calm  and  mild  as  usual.  He  paused;  he  raised 
his  spectacles ;  he  cast  his  eye  upon  his  mother ;  again  it 
fell  upon  the  book  from  which  he  had  been  reading.  Not 
a  word  escaped  him;  but  again  he  calmly  pursued  the 
service,  and  soon  after  sought  in  prayer  an  ability  to  set 
an  example  before  his  household  which  would  be  worthy 
of  their  imitation.  Such  a  victory  was  worth  more  than 
the  proudest  one  ever  achieved  on  the  field  of  battle. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Con-trol',  subdue,  restrain,  govern.  Cul'ture, 
cultivation,  improvement  by  effort.  Dis^i-plmed,  brought  under 
control,  trained  2.  In-tol'er-a-ble,  not  capable  of  being  borne. 
3.  Def'er-ence,  regard,  respect.  4.  Rep'ri-mand-ed,  reproved  for  a 
fault.  6.  Su-per-an'nu-a-ted,  impaired  by  old  age  and  infirmity. 
8.  A-chieved',  gained. 

NOTE.  —  Roger  Sherman  (b.  1721,  d.  1793)  was  born  at  Newton 
Massachusetts,  and  until  twenty-two  years  of  age  was  a  shoe- 
maker. He  then  removed  to  New  Milford,  Connecticut,  and  was 
soon  afterward  appointed  surveyor  of  lands  for  the  county.  In 
1754,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  At  various  times  he  was 
elected  a  judge;  sent  to  the  Legislature,  to  the  Colonial  Assembly, 
and  to  the  United  States  Congress;  made  a  member  of  the  gov- 
ernor's council  of  safety;  and,  in  1776,  a  member  of  the  commit- 
tee appointed  to  draft  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  of  which 
he  was  one  of  the  signers. 


FIFTH   EEADEE.  207 


LXVII.    WILLIAM  TELL. 

James  Sheridan  Knowles  (6. 1784,  d.  1862),  a  dramatist  and  actor, 
was  born  in  Cork,  Ireland.  In  1792  his  father  removed  to  London  with  his 
family.  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  Sheridan  wrote  an  opera  called  "The 
Chevalier  de  Grillon."  In  1798  he  removed  to  Dublin,  and  soon  after 
began  his  career  as  an  actor  and  author.  In  1835  he  visited  America.  In 
1839  an  annual  pension  of  £200  was  granted  him  by  the  British  govern- 
ment. Several  years  before  his  death  he  left  the  stage  and  became  a 
Baptist  minister.  The  best  known  of  his  plays  are  "Caius  Gracchus," 
"  Virginius,  "  Leo,  the  Gypsy,"  "  The  Hunchback,"  and  "  William  Tell," 
from  the  last  of  wnich  the  following  two  lessons  are  abridged. 

SCENE  1. — A  CJiamber  in  the  Castle.     Enter  Gesler,  Officer st 
and  Sarnem,  with  Tell  in  chains  and  guarded. 

Sar.   DOWN,  slave !     Behold  the  governor. 
Down!   down!   and  beg  for  mercy. 

Ges.    (Seated.)     Does  he  hear? 

JSar.   He  does,  but  braves  thy  power. 

Officer.  Why  don't  you  smite  him  for  that  look? 

Ges.   Can  I  believe 

My  eyes  ?     He  smiles !     Nay,  grasps 

His  chains  as  he  would  make  a  weapon  of  them 

To  lay  the  smiter  dead.     (To  Tett.) 

Why  speakest  thou  not? 

Tell.   For  wonder. 

Ges.   Wonder? 

Tell.   Yes,  that  thou  shouldst  seem  a  man. 

Ges.  What  should  I  seem? 

Tell.   A  monster. 

Ges.   Ha!     Beware!     Think  on  thy  chains. 

Tell.   Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigh  me  down 
Prostrate  to  the  earth,  methinks  I  could  rise  up 
Erect,  with  nothing  but  the  honest  pride 
Of  telling  thee,  usurper,  to  thy  teeth, 
Thou  art  a  monster!     Think  upon  my  chains? 
How  came  they  on  me? 


208  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Ges.   Darest  thou  question  me? 
Tell.  Darest  thou  not  answer? 
Ges.   Do  I  hear? 
Tell  Thou  dost. 
Ges.   Beware  my  vengeance! 
Tell.  Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 
Ges.   Enough;  it  can  do  that. 
Tell.  No;  not  enough: 

It  can  not  take  away  the  grace  of  life; 

Its  comeliness  of  look  that  virtue  gives; 

Its  port  erect  with  consciousness  of  truth; 

Its  rich  attire  of  honorable  deeds; 

Its  fair  report  that's  rife  on  good  men's  tongues; 

It  can  not  lay  its  hands  on  these,  no  more 

Than  it  can  pluck  the  brightness  from  the  sun, 

Or  with  polluted  finger  tarnish  it. 
Ges.   But  it  can  make  thee  writhe. 
Tell.   It  may. 
Ges.   And  groan. 
Tell.   It  may;  and  I  may  cry 

Go  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan  again. 
Ges.   Whence  comest  thou? 
Tell.   From  the  mountains.     Wouldst  thou  learn 

What  news  from  thence0 
Ges.   Canst  tell  rne  any? 
Tell.   Ay:  they  watch  no  more  the  avalanche. 
Ges.   Why  so? 
Tell.   Because  they  look  for  thee.     The  hurricane 

Comes  unawares  upon  them;   from  its  bed 

The  torrent  breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track. 
Ges.  What  do  they  then? 
Tett.   Thank  heaven  it  is  not  thou! 

Thou  hast  perverted  nature  in  them. 

There's  not  a  blessing  heaven  vouchsafes  them,  but 

The  thought  of  thee  —  doth  wither  to  a  curse. 
Ges.   That's  right!     I'd  have  them  like  their  hills, 


FIFTH    READER.  209 

That  never  smile,  though  wanton  summer  tempt 

Them  e'er  so  much. 
Tell.   But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 
Ges.   Ay !   when  is  that  ? 
Tell  When  they  do  talk  of  vengeance. 
Ges.   Vengeance?     Dare  they  talk  of  that? 
Tell.  Ay,  and  expect  it  too. 
Ges.   From  whence? 
Tell.   Prom  heaven! 
Ges.   From  heaven? 
Tell.   And  their  true  hands 

Are  lifted  up  to  it  on  every  hill 

For  justice  on  thee. 
Ges.   Where's  thy  abode? 
Tell.   I  told  thee,  on  the  mountains. 
Ges.   Art  married? 
Tell.   Yes. 

Ges.   And  hast  a  family? 
Tell.   A  son. 
Ges.   A  son  ?     Sarnem ! 
Sar.   My  lord,  the  boy  —  (Gesler  signs  to  Sarnem  to  keep 

silence,  and,  whispering,  sends  him  off.) 
Tell   The  boy  ?     What  boy  ? 

Is 't  mine  ?  and  have  they  netted  my  young  fledgeling  ? 

Now  heaven  support  me,  if  they  have!  He'll  own 
me, 

And  share  his  father's  ruin!     But  a  look 

Would  put  him  on  his  guard  —  yet  how  to  give  it  I 

Now  heart,  thy  nerve ;  forget  thou  'rt  flesh,  be  rock. 

They  come,  they  come ! 

That  step — that  step  —  that  little  step,  so  light 

Upon  the  ground,  how  heavy  does  it  fall 

Upon  my  heart !  I  feel  my  child !  (Enter  Sarnem 
with  Albert,  whose  eyes  are  riveted  on  Tell's  bow, 
which  Sarnem  carries.) 

'Tis  he!    We  can  but  perish, 

(6.-14.) 


210  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Alb.   (Aside.)     Yes;  I  was  right.     It  is  my  father's  bow! 

For  there's  my  father!     I'll  not  own  him  though! 
Sar.   See! 
Alb.   What? 
Sar.   Look  there! 

Alb.   I  do,  what  would  you  have  me  see? 
Sar.   Thy  father. 

Alb.   Who?     That  — that  my  father? 
Tell.   My  boy!   my  boy!   my  own  brave  boy! 

He's  safe!     (Aside.) 

Sar.   (Aside  to  Gesler.)     They're  like  each  other. 
Ges.  Yet  I  see  no  sign 

Of  recognition  to  betray  the  link 

Unites  a  father  and  his  child. 
Sar.   My  lord, 

I  am  sure  it  is  his  father.     Look  at  them. 

That  boy  did  spring  from  him;   or  never  cast 

Came  from  the  mold  it  fitted!     It  may  be 

A  preconcerted  thing  'gainst  such  a  chance, 

That  they  survey  each  other  coldly  thus. 
Ges.  We  shall  try.     Lead  forth  the  caitiff. 
Sar.   To  a  dungeon? 
Ges.   No;   into  the  court. 
Sar.   The  court,  my  Jord? 
Ges.   And  send 

To  tell  the  headsman  to  make  ready.     Quick! 

The  slave  shall  die!     You  marked  the  boy? 
Sar.   I  did.     He  started;  'tis  his  father. 
Ges.   We  shall  see.     Away  with  him! 
Tell    Stop!     Stop! 
Ges.   What  would  you? 
Tell.   Time, — 

A  little  time  to  call  my  tnoughts  together! 
Ges.   Thou  shalt  not  have  a  minute. 
Tell.   Some  one,  then,  to  speak  with. 
Ges.   Hence  with  him! 


FIFTH   READER.  211 

Tell   A  moment!     Stop! 

Let  me  speak  to  the  boy. 

Is  he  thy  son? 

And  if 

He  were,  art  thou  so  lost  to  nature,  as   ' 

To  send  me  forth  to  die  before  his  face? 

Ges.   Well!   speak  with  him. 

Now,  Sarnem,  mark  them  well. 

Tell.   Thou  dost  not  know  me,  boy;   and  well  for  thee 
Thou  dost  not.     I'm  the  father  of  a  son 
About  thy  age.     Thou, 
I  see,  wast  born,  like  him,  upon  the  hills: 
If  thou  shouldst  'scape  thy  present  thraldom,  he 
May  chance  to  cross  thee ;   if  he  should,  I  pray  thee 
Eelate  to  him  what  has  been  passing  here, 
And  say  I  laid  my  hand  upon  thy  head, 
And  said  to  thee,  if  he  were  here,  as  thou  art, 
Thus  would  I  bless  him.     Mayst  thou  live,  my  boy, 
To  see  thy  country  free,  or  die  for  her, 
As  I  do !     (Albert  weeps.) 

Sar.   Mark!   he  weeps. 

Tell.   Were  he  my  son, 

He  would  not  shed  a  tear!    He  would  remember 
The  cliff  where  he  was  bred,  and  learned  to  scan 
A  thousand  fa/thorns'  depth  of  nether  air; 
Where  he  was  trained  to  hear  the  thunder  talk, 
And  meet  the  lightning,  eye  to  eye;   where  last 
We  spoke  together,  when  I  told  him  death 
Bestowed  the  brightest  gem  that  graces  life, 
Embraced  for  virtue's  sake.     He  shed  a  tear! 
Now  were  he  by,  I'd  talk  to  him,  and  his  cheek 
Should  never  blanch,  ncr  moisture  dim  his  eye  — 
I'd  talk  to  him  — 

Sar.   He  falters! 

Tell.   'T  is  too  much ! 

And  yet  it  must  be  done!    I'd  talk  to  him — 


212  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Ges.   Of  what? 

Tell.   The  mother,  tyrant,  thou  dost  make 

A  widow  of!     I'd  talk  to  him  of  her. 

I'd  bid  him  tell  her,  next  to  liberty, 

Her  name  was  the  last  word  my  lips  pronounced. 

And  I  would  charge  him  never  to  forget 

To  love  and  cherish  her,  as  he  would  have 

His  father's  dying  blessing  rest  upon  him! 
Sar.   You  see,  as  he  doth  prompt,  the  other  acts. 
Tell.   So  well  he  bears  it,  he  doth  vanquish  me. 

My  boy!   my  boy!     Oh,  for  the  hills,  the  hills, 

To  see  him  bound  along  their  tops  again, 

With  liberty. 

Sar.   Was  there  not  all  the  father  in  that  look  ? 
Ges.   Yet  't  is  'gainst  nature. 
Sar.   Not  if  he  believes 

To  own  the  son  would  be  to  make  him  share 

The  father's  death. 
Ges.   I  did  not  think  of  that !     'T  is  well 

The  boy  is  not  thy  son.     I've  destined  him 

To  die  along  with  thee. 
Tell.   To  die?    For  what? 
Ges.  For  having  braved  my  power,  as  thou  hast.     Lead 

them  forth. 

Tell.  He's  but  a  child. 
Ges.   Away  with  them ! 
Tell.   Perhaps  an  only  child. 
Ges.   No  matter. 
Tell.   He  may  have  a  mother. 
Ges.   So  the  viper  hath; 

And  yet,  who  spares  it  for  the  mother's  sake  ? 
Tell.   I  talk  to  stone !     I  talk  to  it  as  though 

'Twere  flesh;  and  know  't  is  none.     I'll  talk  to  it 

No  more.     Come,  my  boy; 

I  taught  thee  how  to  live,  I  '11  show  thee  how  to  die. 
Ges.   He  is  thy  child  ? 


FIFTH   READER.  213 

Tell.   He  is  my  child.     (Weeps.) 

Ges.   I  've  wrung  a  tear  from  him  !     Thy  name  ? 

Tell.   My  name? 

It  matters  not  to  keep  it  from  thee  now; 

My  name  is  Tell. 
Ges.   Tell?    William  Tell.? 
Tell.   The  same. 
Ges.   What!    he,  so  famed  'bove  all  his  countrymen, 

For  guiding  o'er  the  stormy  lake  the  boat? 

And  such  a  master  of  his  bow,  ?t  is  said 

His  arrows  never  miss !     Indeed !     1 '11  take 

Exquisite  vengeance!     Mark!     I'll  spare  thy  life; 

Thy  boy's  too;   both  of  you  are  free;   on  one 

Condition. 
Tell.   Name  it. 
Ges.   I  would  see  you  make 

A  trial  of  your  skill  with  that  same  bow 

You  shoot  so  well  with. 
Tell.   Name  the  trial  you 

Would  have  me  make. 
Ges.   You  look  upon  your  boy 

As  though  instinctively  you  guessed  it. 
Tell.   Look  upon  niy  boy  ?     What  mean  you  ?     Look  upon 

My  boy  as  though  I  guessed  it  ?     Guessed  the  trial 

You  'd  have  me  make  ?     Guessed  it 

Instinctively  ?     You  do  not  mean  —  no  —  no, 

You  would  not  have  me  make  a  trial  of 

My  skill  upon  my  child!     Impossible! 

I  do  not  guess  your  meaning. 
Ges.  I  would  see 

Thee  hit  an  apple  at  the  distance  of 

A  hundred  paces. 
Tell.   Is  my  boy  to  hold  it? 
Ges.  No. 

Tell.  No?     I'll  send  the  arrow  through  the  core! 
Ges.   It  is  to  rest  upon  his  head. 


214  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Tell.   Great  heaven,  you  hear  him! 

Ges.  Thou  dost  hear  the  choice  I  give: 

Such  trial  of  the  skill  thou  art  master  of, 
Or  death  to  both  of  you,  not  otherwise 
To  be  escaped. 

Tell.   0,  monster! 

Ges.   Wilt  thou  do  it  ? 

Alb.   He  will!   he  will! 

Tell.   Ferocious  monster!     Make 

A  father  murder  his  own  child! 

Ges.   Take  off  his  chains  if  he  consent. 

Tell.  With  his  own  hand! 

Ges.   Does  he  consent  ? 

Alb.   He  does.    (Gesler  signs  to  his  officers,  who  proceed  to  take 
off  TeWs  chains  ;  Tell  unconscious  ivhat  they  do.) 

Tell.   With  his  own  hand! 

Murder  his  child  with  his  own  hand?     This  hand? 
The  hand  I  've  led  him,  when  an  infant,  by  ? 
'T  is  beyond  horror !     'T  is  most  horrible ! 
Amazement !    (His  chains  fall  off.)    What  's  that  you  've 

done  to  me  ? 

Villains !    put  on  my  chains  again.     My  hands 
Are  free  from  blood,  and  have  no  gust  for  it, 
That  they  should  drink  my  child's !     Here !  here !  I  '11 
Not  murder  my  boy  for  Gesler. 

Alb.   Father!     Father! 

You  will  not  hit  me,  father! 

Tell   Hit  thee  ?     Send 

The  arrow  through  thy  brain?     Or,  missing  that, 
Shoot  out  an  eye?     Or,  if  thine  eye  escape, 
Mangle  the  cheek  I've  seen  thy  mother's  lips 
Cover  with  kisses?     Hit  thee?     Hit  a  hair 
Of  thee,  and  cleave  thy  mother's  heart? 

Ges.   Dost  thou  consent? 

Tell.   Give  me  my  bow  and  quiver. 

Ges.   For  what? 


FIFTH   READER.  215 

Tett.   To  shoot  my  boy! 
Alb.  No,  father,  no! 

To  save  me!     You'll  be  sure  to  hit  the  apple. 

Will  you  not  save  me,  father  ? 
Tell.   Lead  me  forth; 

I  '11  make  the  trial ! 
Alb.   Thank  you! 
Tell.   Thank  me?     Do 

You  know  for  what?    I  will  not  make  the  trial. 

To  take  him  to  his  mother  in  my  arms ! 

And  lay  him  down  a  corse  before  her! 
Ges.   Then  he  dies  this  moment,  and  you  certainly 

Do  murder  him  whose  life  you  have  a  chance 

To  save,  and  will  not  use  it. 
Tell.  Well,  I  '11  do  it ;   I  '11  make  the  Trial. 
Alb.  Father! 
Tett.   Speak  not  to  me : 

Let  me  not  hear  thy  voice:   thou  must  be  dumb, 

And  so  should  all  things  be.     Earth  should  be  dumb; 

And  heaven  —  unless  its  thunders  muttered  at 

The  deed,  and  sent  a  bolt  to  stop!     Give  me 

My  bow  and  quiver! 
Ges.   When  all's  ready. 
Tell.   Keady!  — 

I  must  be  calm  with  such  a  mark  to  hit! 

Don't  touch  me,  child ! — Don't  speak  to  me ! — Lead  on! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  Come'li-ness,  that  which  is  becoming  or  graceful. 
Port,  manner  of  movement  or  walk.  At-tire',  dress,  clothes.  Tar7- 
nish,  to  soil,  to  sully.  Av'a-lai^he,  a  vast  body  of  snow,  earth,  and 
ice,  sliding  down  from  a  mountain.  Vouch-safes',  yields,  conde~ 
scends,  gives.  Wan'ton,  luxuriant.  Net'ted,  caught  in  a  net. 
Fledge'ling,  a  young  bird.  Ree-og-ni'tion,  acknowledgment  of  ac- 
quaintance. Pre-con-<^rt'ed,  planned  beforehand.  Cai'tiff  (pro. 
ka'tif),  a  mean  villain.  Thral'dom,  bondage,  slavery.  Sean,  to 
examine  closely.  Neth'er,  lower,  lying  beneath.  Blanch,  to  turn 
white.  Gust,  taste,  relish. 


216  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

NOTE. — William  Tell  is  a  legendary  hero  of  Switzerland.  The 
events  of  this  drama  are  represented  as  occurring  in  1307  A.D., 
when  Austria  held  Switzerland  under  her  control.  Gesler,  also 
a  purely  mythical  personage,  is  one  of  the  Austrian  bailiffs. 
The  legend  relates  that  Gesler  had  his  cap  placed  on  a  pole  in 
the  market  place,  and  all  the  Swiss  were  required  to  salute  it  in 
passing  in  recognition  of  his  authority.  Tell  refusing  to  do 
this  was  arrested,  and  condemned  to  death.  This  and  the  follow- 
ing lesson  narrate  how  the  sentence  was  changed,  and  the  result. 


LXVIII.    WILLIAM  TELLv 
(Concluded.) 

SCENE  2.  —  Enter  slowly,  people  in  evident  distress —  Officers, 
Sarnem,  Gesler,  Tell,  Albert,  and  soldiers  —  one  bearing 
Tell's  bow  and  quiver — another  with  a  basket  of  apples. 

Ges.  That    is    your    ground.      Now   shall    they  measure 
thence 

A  hundred  paces.     Take  the  distance. 
Tell.   Is  the  line  a  true  one? 
Ges.   True  or  not,  what  is  Jt  to  thee  ? 
Tell.   What  is 't  to  me  ?    A  little  thing. 

A  very  little  thing;  a  yard  or  two 

Is  nothing  here  or  there  —  were  it  a  wolf 

I  shot  at!     Never  mind. 
Ges.   Be  thankful,  slave, 

Our  grace  accords  thee  life  on  any  terms. 
Tell.   I  will  be  thankful,  Gesler !    Villain,  stop ! 

You  measure  to  the  sun. 
Ges.   And  what  of  that? 

What  matter  whether  to  or  from  the  sun? 
Tell.   I'd  have  it  at  my  back.     The  sun  should  shine 

Upon  the  mark,  and  not  on  him  that  shoots. 


FIFTH   READER.  217 

I  can  not  see  to  shoot  against  the  sun: 

I  will  not  shoot  against  the  sun! 
Ges.    Give  him  his  way !     Thou  hast  cause  to  bless  my 

mercy. 
Tell.   I  shall  remember  it.     I'd  like  to  see 

The  apple  I'm  to  shoot  at. 
Ges.    Stay !   show  me  the  basket !   there ! 
Tell.   You've  picked  the  smallest  one. 
Ges.   I  know  I  have. 
Tell.   Oh,  do  you  ?     But  you  see 

The  color  of  it  is  dark:  I'd  have  it  light, 

To  see  it  better. 
Ges.   Take  it  as  it  is; 

Thy  skill  will  be  the  greater  if  thou  hitt'st  it. 
Tell.   True !  true !  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  I  wonder 

I  did  not  think  of  that.     Give  me  some  chance 

To  save  my  boy!  — 

I  will  not  murder  him, 

If  I  can  help  it — for  the  honor  of 

The  form  thou  wearest,  if  all  the  heart  is  gone. 

(Throivs  away  the  apple  with  all  his  force.) 
Ges.  Well:   choose  thyself. 
Tell.   Have  I  a  friend  among  the  lookers-on? 
Verner.    (Rushing  forward)     Here,  Tell. 
Tell.   I  thank  thee,  Verner! 

He  is  a  friend  runs  out  into  a  storm 

To  shake  a  hand  with  us.     I  must  be  brief. 

When  once  the  bow  is  bent,  we  can  not  take 

The  shot  too  soon.     Verner,  whatever  be 

The  issue  of  this  hour,  the  common  cause 

Must  not  stand  still.     Let  not  to-morrow's  sun 

Set  on  the  tyrant's  banner  !     Verner !     Verner ! 

The   boy !   the   boy !      Thinkest  thou    he   hath   the 
courage 

To  stand  it? 
Ver.  Yes. 


218  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Tell   Does  he  tremble? 

Ver.   No. 

Tell.   Art  sure? 

Ver.   I  am. 

Tell   How  looks  he? 

Ver.   Clear  and  smilingly. 

If  you  doubt  it,  look  yourself. 

Tell  No,  no,  my  friend: 
To  hear  it  is  enough, 

Ver.   He  bears  himself  so  much  above  his  years  — 

Tell.   I  know!  I  know! 

Ver.   With  constancy  so  modest  — 

Tell.   I  was  sure  he  would — 

Ver.   And  looks  with  such  relying  love 
And  reverence  upon  you — 

Tell.   Man!    Man!     Man! 

No  more!     Already  I'm  too  much  the  father 
To  act  the  man!    Verner,  no  more,  my  friend! 
I  would  be  flint  —  flint  —  flint.      Don't  make  me  feel 
I'm  not  —  do  not  mind  me!     Take  the  boy 
And  set  him,  Verner,  with  his  back  to  me. 
Set  him  upon  his  knees,  and  place  this  apple 
Upon  his  head,  so  that  the  stem  may  front  me. 
Thus,  Verner;  charge  him  to  keep  steady;  tell  him 
I  '11  hit  the  apple !    Verner,  do  all  this 
More  briefly  than  I  tell  it  thee. 

Ver.   Come,  Albert !     (Leading  him  out.) 

Alb.   May  I  not  speak  with  him  before  I  go? 

Ver.   No. 

Alb.   I  would  only  kiss  his  hand. 

Ver.   You  must  not. 

Alb.   I  must;  I  can  not  go  from  him  without. 

Ver.   It  is  his  will  you  should. 

Alb.   His  will,  is  it? 

I  am  content,  then;    come. 

Tell.   My  boy!     (Holding  out  his  arms  to  him.) 


FIFTH   READER.  219 

Alb.    My  father!     (Rushing  into  TeWs  arms.) 

Tell.    If  thou  canst  bear  it,  should  not  I?      Go  now, 
My  son;   and  keep  in  mind  that  I  can  shoot; 
Go,  boy;   be  thou  but  steady,  I  will  hit 
The  apple.     Go!     God  bless  thee;  go.    My  bow! 
(The  bow  is  handed  to  him.) 

Thou  wilt  not  fail  thy  master,  wilt  thou?    Thou 
Hast  never  failed  him  yet,  old  servant.     No, 
I'm  sure  of  thee.     I  know  thy  honesty, 
Thou  art  stanch,  stanch.     Let  me  see  my  quiver. 

Ges.    Give  him  a  single  arrow. 

Tell.   Do  you  shoot? 

Soldier.   I  do. 

Tell.   Is  it  so  you  pick  an  arrow,  friend? 

The  point,  you  see,  is  bent;   the  feather,  jagged. 
That 's  all  the  use  't  is  fit  for.  (Breaks  it.) 

Ges.    Let  him  have  another. 

Tell.    Why,  'tis  better  than  the  first, 

But  yet  not  good  enough  for  such  an  aim 

As  I'm  to  take.     'Tis  heavy  in  the  shaft; 

I  '11  not  shoot  with  it !      (Throws  it  away.)     Let 

me  see  my  quiver. 

Bring  it!     'Tis  not  one  arrow  in  a  dozen 
I'd  take  to  shoot  with  at  a  dove,  much  less 
A  dove  like  that. 

Ges.    It  matters  not. 

Show  him  the  quiver. 

Tell.   See  if  the  boy  is  ready. 

(Tell  here  hides  an  arrow  under  his  vest.) 

Ver.   He  is. 

Tell.   I'm  ready  too!    Keep  silent,  for 

Heaven's  sake,  and  do  not  stir;   and  let  me  have 
Your  prayers,  your  prayers,  and  be  my  witnesses 
That  if  his  life  's  in  peril  from  my  hand, 
'Tis  only  for  the  chance  of  saving  it.  (To  the  people.) 

Ges.    Go  on. 


220  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Tell.  I  will. 

0  friends,  for  mercy's  sake  keep  motionless 

and  silent.     (Tell  shoots.     A  shout  of  exulta- 
tion bursts  from  the  crowd.     TelVs  head  drops 
on  his  bosom  ;   he  with  difficulty  supports  him- 
self on  his  bow.) 
Ver.    (Rushing   in  with  Albert.)      The  boy  is    safe,  no 

hair  of  him  is  touched. 
Alb.   Father,  I  'm  safe.     Your  Albert 's  safe,  dear  father. 

Speak  to  me  !     Speak  to  me ! 
Ver.  He  can  not,  boy ! 
Alb.   You  grant  him  life? 
Ges.  I  do. 

Alb.   And  we  are  free  ? 
Ges.   You  are.     (Crossing  angrily  behind.) 
Alb.   Open  his  vest, 

And  give  him  air.     (Albert  opens  his  father's  vest, 
and  the  arrow  drops.     Tell  starts,  fixes  his  eyes 
on  Albert  and  clasps  him  to  his  breast.) 
Tell.   My  boy!     My  boy! 
Ges.   For  what 

Hid  you  that  arrow  in  your  breast  ?     Speak,  slave ! 
Tell.   To  kill  thee,  tyrant,  had  I  slain  my  boy! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  Ac-lords',  grants,  concedes.  Is'sue  (pro.  ish'u), 
event,  consequence.  Stanch,  sound,  strong.  Jag'ged,  notched,  uneven, 
Shaft,  the  stem  of  an  arrow  upon  which  the  feather  and  head  are 
inserted.  Quiv'er,  a  case  for  arrows. 

NOTE.  —  The  legend  further  relates  that  on  the  discovery  of 
the  concealed  arrow  Tell  was  again  put  in  chains.  Gesler  then 
embarked  for  another  place,  taking  Tell  with  him.  A  storm  over- 
took them,  and  Tell  was  released  to  steer  the  boat.  In  passing 
a  certain  point  of  land,  now  known  as  "  TelPs  Rock  "  or  "  Leap," 
Tell  leaped  ashore  and  escaped :  then  going  to  a  point  where  he 
knew  the  boat  must  land,  he  lay  concealed  until  it  arrived,  when 
he  shot  Gesler  through  the  heart. 


fIFTH   READER.  221 


LXIX.    THE  CRAZY  ENGINEER. 


1.  MY  train  left  Dantzic  in  the  morning  generally  about 
eight  o'clock ;  but  once  a  week  we  had  to  wait  for.  the  arrival 
of  the  steamer  from  Stockholm.     It  was  the  morning  of  the 
steamer's  arrival  that  I  came  down  from  the  hotel,  and  found 
that  my  engineer  had  been  so  seriously  injured  that  he  could 
not  perform  his  work.     I  went  immediately  to  the  engine 
house  to  procure  another  engineer,  for  I  supposed  there 
were  three  or  four  in  reserve  there,  but  I  was  disappointed. 

2.  I  heard  the  puffing  of  the  steamer,  and  the  passengers 
would  be  on  hand  in  fifteen  minutes.     I  ran  to  the  guards 
and  asked  them  if  they  knew  where  there  was  an  engineer, 
but  they  did  not.     I  then  went  to  the  firemen  and  asked 
them  if  any  one  of  them  felt  competent  to  run  the  engine 
to  Bromberg.     No  one  dared  to  attempt  it.     The  distance 
was  nearly  one  hundred  miles.     What  was  to  be  done  ? 

3.  The  steamer  stopped  at  the  wharf,  and  those  who 
were  going  on  by  rail  came  flocking  to  the  station.     They 
had  eaten  breakfast  on  board  the  boat,  and  were  all  ready 
for  a  fresh  start.     The  train  was  in  readiness  in  the  long 
station  house,  and  the  engine  was  steaming  and  puffing 
away  impatiently  in  the  distant  firing  house. 

4.  It  was  past   nine  o'clock.      "Come,   why  don't  we 
start  ?  "  growled  an  old,  fat  Swede,  who  had  been  watching 
me  narrowly  for  the  last  fifteen  minutes.     And  upon  this 
there  was  a  general  chorus  of  anxious  inquiry,  which  soon 
settled  to  downright  murmuring.     At  this  juncture   some 
one  touched  me  on  the  elbow.     I  turned,  and  saw  a  stranger 
by  my  side.     I  thought  that  he  was  going  to  remonstrate 
with  me  for  my  backwardness.     In  fact,  I  began  to  have 
strong  temptations  to  pull  off  my  uniform,  for  every  anxious 
eye  was  fixed  upon  the  glaring  badges  which  marked  me  as 
the  chief  officer  of  the  train. 

5.  However,  this  stranger  was  a  middle-aged  man,  tall 


222 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


and  stout,  with  a  face  of  great  energy  and  intelligence.  His 
eye  was  black  and  brilliant,  —  so  brilliant  that  I  could  not 
gaze  steadily  into  it,  though  I  tried ;  and  his  lips,  which 
were  very  thin,  seemed  more  like  polished  marble  than 
human  flesh.  His  dress  was  black  throughout,  and  not  omy 
set  with  exact  nicety,  but  was  scrupulously  clean  and  neat. 


6.  "  You  want  an  engineer,  I  understand,"  he  said  in  a 
low,  cautious  tone,  at  the  same  time  gazing  quietly  about 
him,  as  though  he  wanted  no  one  to  hear  what  he  said. 

"  I  do,"  I  replied.  "  My  train  is  all  ready,  and  we  have 
no  engineer  within  twenty  miles  of  this  place." 

"Well,  sir,  I  am  going  to  Bromberg;  I  must  go,  and  1 
will  run  the  engine  for  you." 

"  Ha ! "  I  uttered,  "  are  you  an  engineer  ?  " 

"  I  am,  sir  —  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  country  —  and  am 
now  on  my  way  to  make  arrangements  for  a  great  im- 
provement I  have  invented  for  the  application  of  steam  to 
a  locomotive.  My  name  is  Martin  Kroller.  If  you  wish, 
I  will  run  as  far  as  Bromberg ;  and  I  will  show  you  running 
that  is  running." 


FIFTH    READER.  223 

7.  Was  I  not  fortunate?      I  determined  to  accept  the 
man's  offer  at  once,  and  so  I  told  him.     He  received  my 
answer  with  a  nod  and  a  smile.     I  went  with  him  to  the 
house,  where  we  found  the  engine  in  charge  of  the  fireman, 
and  all  ready  for  a  start.     Kroller  got  upon  the  platform, 
and  I  followed  him.     I  had  never  seen  a  man  betray  such 
a  peculiar  aptness  amid  machinery  as  he  did.     He  let  on 
the  steam  in  an  instant,  but  yet  with  care  and  judgment, 
and  he  backed  up  to  the  baggage  carriage  with  the  most 
exact  nicety. 

8.  I  had  seen  enough  to  assure  me  that  he  was  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  business,  and  I  felt  composed  once 
more.     I  gave  my  engine  up  to  the  new  man,  and  then  has- 
tened away  to  the  office.     Word  was  passed  for  all  the  pas- 
sengers to  take  their  seats,  and  soon  afterward  I  waved  my 
hand  to  the  engineer.     There  was  a  puff,  a  groaning  of  the 
heavy  axletrees,  a  trembling  of  the  building,  and  the  train 
was  in  motion.     I  leaped  upon  the  platform  of  the  guard 
carriage,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  station  house  was 
far  behind  us. 

9.  In  less  than  an  hour  we  reached  Dirschau,  where  we 
took  up  the  passengers  that  had  come  on  the  Konigsberg 
railway.     Here  I  went  forward  and  asked  Kroller  how  he 
liked  the  engine.     He  replied  that  he  liked  it  very  much. 

"But,"  he  added,  with  a  strange  sparkling  of  the  eye, 
"  wait  until  I  get  my  improvement,  and  then  you  will  see 
traveling.  Why,  I  could  run  an  engine  of  my  construction 
to  the  moon  in  four  and  twenty  hours  ?  " 

10.  I  smiled  at  what  I  thought  his  enthusiasm,  and  then 
went  bax?k  to  my   station.     As  soon  as  the  Konigsberg 
passengers  were  all  on  board,  and  their  baggage  carriage 
attached,  we  started  on  again.     Soon  after,  I  went  into  the 
guard  carriage  and  sat  down.     An  early  train  from  Konigs- 
berg had  been  through  two  hours  before,  and  was  awaiting 
us  at  Little  Oscue,  where  we  took  on  board  the  Western 
mail. 


224  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

11.  "  How  we  go,"  uttered  one  of  the  guards,  some  fifteen 
minutes  after  we  had  left  Dirschau. 

"  The  new  engineer  is  trying  the  speed/7  I  replied,  not 
yet  having  any  fear.  But  ere  long  I  began  to  apprehend  he 
was  running  a  little  too  fast.  The  carriages  began  to  sway 
to  and  fro,  and  I  could  hear  exclamations  of  fright  from  the 
passengers. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  cried  one  of  the  guards,  coming  in  at 
that  moment,  "  what  is  that  fellow  doing  ?  Look,  sir,  and 
see  how  we  are  going." 

12.  I  looked  at  the  window,  and  found  that  we  were 
dashing  along  at  a  speed  never  before  traveled  on  that 
road.     Posts,  fences,  rocks,  and  trees  flew  by  in  one  undis- 
tinguished mass,  and  the  carriages  now  swayed  fearfully. 
I  started  to  my  feet,  and  met  a  passenger  on  the  platform. 
He  was  one  of  the  chief  owners  of  our  road,  and  was  just 
on  his  way  to  Berlin.     He  was  pale  and  excited. 

13.  "  Sir,"  he  gasped,  "  is  Martin  Kroller  on  the  engine  ?  " 
"Yes,"  I  told  him. 

«  What !  didn't  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Know  ?  "  I  repeated,  somewhat  puzzled ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  ?  He  told  me  his  name  was  Kroller,  and  that  he  was 
an  engineer.  We  had  no  one  to  run  the  engine,  and  —  " 

"  You  took  him  !  "  interrupted  the  man.  "  Good  heavens, 
sir,  he  is  as  crazy  as  a  man  can  be !  He  turned  his  brain 
over  a  new  plan  for  applying  steam  power.  I  saw  him  at 
the  station,  but  did  not  fully  recognize  him,  as  I  was  in  a 
hurry.  Just  now  one  of  your  passengers  told  me  that  your 
engineers  were  all  gone  this  morning,  and  that  you  found 
one  that  was  a  stranger  to  you.  Then  I  knew  the  man 
whom  I  had  seen  was  Martin  Kroller.  He  had  escaped  from 
the  hospital  at  Stettin.  You  must  get  him  off  somehow." 

14.  The  whole  fearful  truth  was  now  open  to  me.     The 
speed  of  the  tram  was  increasing  every  moment,  and  I 
knew  that  a  few  more  miles  per  hour  would  launch  us  all 
into  destruction.    I  called  to  the  guard,  and  then  made  my 


FIFTH    READER.  225 

way  forward  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  reached  the  back 
platform  of  the  tender,  and  there  stood  Kroller  upon  the 
engine  board,  his  hat  and  coat  off,  his  long  black  hair  float- 
ing wildly  in  the  wind,  his  shirt  unbuttoned  at  the  front, 
his  sleeves  rolled  up,  with  a  pistol  in  his  teeth,  and  thus 
glaring  upon  the  fireman,  who  lay  motionless  upon  the  fuel. 
The  furnace  was  stuffed  till  the  very  latch  of  the  door  was 
red-hot,  and  the  whole  engine  was  quivering  and  swaying 
as  though  it  would  shiver  to  pieces. 

15.  "  Kroller !  Kroller !  "  I  cried,  at  the  top  of  my  voice. 
The  crazy  engineer  started,  and  caught  the  pistol  in  his 

hand.  Oh,  how  those  great  black  eyes  glared,  and  how 
ghastly  and  frightful  the  face  looked ! 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha ! "  he  yelled  demoniacally,  glaring  upon  me 
like  a  roused  lion. 

"They  said  that  I  could  not  make  it!  But  see!  see! 
See  ray  new  power !  See  my  new  engine !  I  made  it,  and 
they  are  jealous  of  me !  I  made  it,  and  when  it  was  done, 
they  stole  it  from  me.  But  I  have  found  it!  For  years 
I  have  been  wandering  in  search  of  my  great  engine,  and 
they  said  it  was  not  made.  But  I  have  found  it !  I  knew 
it  this  morning  when  I  saw  it  at  Dantzic,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined to  have  it.  And  I  've  got  it !  Ho !  ho !  ho !  we  're  on 
the  way  to  the  moon,  I  say !  We  '11  be  in  the  moon  in  four 
and  twenty  hours.  Down,  down,  villain !  If  you  move,  I  '11 
shoot  you." 

This  was  spoken  to  the  poor  fireman,  who  at  that  moment 
attempted  to  rise,  and  the  frightened  man  sank  back  again. 

16.  "Here's  Little  Oscue  just  before  us,"  cried  out  one 
of  the  guard.     But  even  as  he  spoke,  the  buildings  were  at 
hand.     A  sickening  sensation  settled  upon  my  heart,  for  I 
supposed  that  we  were  now  gone.     The  houses  flew  by  like 
lightning.     I  knew  if  the  officers  here  had  turned  the  switch 
as  usual,  we  should  be  hurled  into  eternity  in  one  fearful 
crash.     I  saw  a  flash,  —  it  was  another  engine,  —  I  closed 
my  eyes ;  but  still  we  thundered  on !     The  officers  had  seeu 

(5.— 15.) 


226  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

our  speed,  and  knowing  that  we  would  not  be  able  to  stop, 
in  that  distance,  they  had  changed  the  switch,  so  that  we 
went  forward. 

17.  But  there  was  sure  death  ahead,  if  we  did  not  stop. 
Only  fifteen  miles  from  us  was  the  town  of  Schwetz,  on  the 
Vistula ;  and  at  the  rate  we  were  going  we  should  be  there 
in  a  few  minutes,  for  each  minute  carried  us  over  a  mile. 
The  shrieks  of  the  passengers  now  rose  above  the  crash  of 
the  rails,  and  more  terrific  than  all  else  arose  the  demoniac 
yells  of  the  mad  engineer. 

"  Merciful  heavens ! "  gasped  the  guardsman,  '•'  there 's  not 
a  moment  to  lose ;  Schwetz  is  close.  But  hold,"  he  added  ; 
"  let 'a  shoot  him." 

18.  At  that  moment  a  tall,  stout  German  student  came 
over  the  platform  where  we  stood,  and  saw  that  the  mad- 
man had  his  heavy  pistol  aimed  at  us.     He   grasped  a 
huge  stick  of  wood,  and,  with  a  steadiness  of  nerve  which  I 
could  not  have  commanded,  he  hurled  it  with  such  force 
and  precision  that  he  knocked  the  pistol  from  the  maniac's 
hand.    I  saw  the  movement,  and  on  the  instant  that  the 
pistol  fell,  I  sprang  forward,  and  the  German  followed  me. 
I  grasped  the  man  by  the  arm;  but  I  should  have  been 
nothing  in  his  mad  power,  had  I  been  alone.     He  would 
have  hurled  me  from  the  platform,  had  not  the  student  at 
that  moment  struck  him  upon  the  head  with  a  stick  of 
wood,  which  he  caught  as  he  came  over  the  tender. 

19.  Kroller  settled  down  like  a  dead  man,  and  on  the 
next  instant  I  shut  off  the  steam  and  opened  the  valve. 
As  the  free  steam  shrieked  and  howled  in  its  escape,  the 
speed  began  to  decrease,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the 
danger  was  passed.     As  I  settled  back,  entirely  overcome 
by  the  wild  emotions  that  had  raged  within  me,  we  began 
to  turn  the  river;  and  before  I  was  fairly  recovered,  the 
fireman  had    stopped  the  train  in  the  station  house  at 
Schwetz. 

20.  Martin  Kroller,  still  insensible,  was  taken  from  the 


FIFTH   HEADER.  221 

platform ;  and,  as  we  carried  him  to  the  guard  room,  one  of 
the  guard  recognized  him,  and  told  us  that  he  had  been 
there  about  two  weeks  before, 

"  He  came,"  said  the  guard,  "  and  swore  that  an  engine 
which  stood  near  by  was  his.  He  said  it  was  one  he  had 
made  to  go  to  the  moon  in,  and  that  it  had  been  stolen  from 
him.  We  sent  for  more  help  to  arrest  him,  and  he  fled." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  with,  a  shudder,  "  I  wish  he  had  ap- 
proached me  in  the  same  way;  but  he  was  more  cautious 
at  Dantzic." 

At  Schwartz  we  found  an  engineer  to  run  the  engine  to 
Bromberg ;  and  having  taken  out  the  western  mail  for  the 
next  northern  mail  to  carry  along,  we  saw  that  Kroller 
would  be  properly  attended  to,  and  then  started  on. 

21.  The  rest  of  the  trip  we  ran  in  safety,  though  I  could 
see  the  passengers  were  not  wholly  at  ease,  and  would  not 
be  until  they  were  entirely  clear  of  the  railway.  Martin 
Kroller  remained  insensible  from  the  effects  of  the  blow 
nearly  two  weeks;  and  when  he  recovered  from  that,  he 
was  sound  again ;  his  insanity  was  all  gone.  I  saw  him 
about  three  weeks  afterward,  but  he  had  no  recollection 
of  me.  He  remembered  nothing  of  the  past  year,  not  even 
his  mad  freak  on  my  engine.  But  I  remembered  it,  and  I 
remember  it  still;  and  the  people  need  never  fear  that  I 
shall  be  imposed  upon  again  by  a  crazy  engineer. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Com'pe-tent,  Jit,  qualified.  4.  June'ture, 
point  of  time,  crisis.  Re-mon'strate,  to  present  strong  reasons  against 
any  course  of  proceedings.  7.  Apt' ness,  fitness,  suitableness.  8.  Com- 
posed7, calm.  11.  Ap-pre-hend',  to  entertain  suspicion  or  fear  of. 
14.  Ten'der,  a  car  attached  to  a  locomotive  to  supply  it  with  fuel  and 
water.  18.  Pre-^i'gion  (pro.  pre-sizh'un),  accuracy,  exactness. 

NOTE.  —  This  incident  is  said  to  have  taken  place  on  the  rail- 
way following  the  valley  of  the  Vistula  River,  in  Prussia,  from 
Dantzic  to  Bromberg.  The  cities  mentioned  are  all  in  Prussia, 
excepting  Stockholm,  which  is  the  capital  of  Sweden. 


228  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


THE  HERITAGE!. 


James  Russell  Lowell  (6.  1819,  d.  1891)  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass., 
and  was  graduated  from  Harvard  College.  He  entered  the  profession  of 
law;  but,  in  1843,  turned  aside  to  publish  "The  Pioneer,  a  Literary  and 
Critical  Magazine."  In  1855  he  was  appointed  professor  of  Belles-lettres 
in  Harvard  College.  From  1877  to  1885  he  was  U.S.  Minister,  first  to 
Spain,  afterwards  to  Great  Britain.  Lowell's  powers  as  a  writer  were 
very  versatile,  and  his  poems  range  from  the  most  dreamy  and  imagi- 
native to  the  most  trenchant  and  witty.  Among  his  most  noted  poetical 
works  are  "  The  Biglow  Papers,"  "  A  Fable  for  Critics,"  "  The  Vision  of 
Sir  Launfal,"  "The  Cathedral,"  and  "The  Legend  of  Brittany;"  while 
"Conversations  on  some  of  the  Old  Poets,"  "Among  my  Books,"  and 
"  My  Study  Windows,"  place  him  in  the  front  rank  as  an  essayist. 


1.  THE  rich  man's  son  inherits  lands, 

And  piles  of  brick,  and  stone,  and  gold, 
And  he  inherits  soft  white  hands, 
And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dares  to  wear  a  garment  old; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

2.  The  rich  man's  son  inherits  cares; 

The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 
A  breath  may  burst  his  bubble  shares, 
And  soft  white  hands  could  hardly  earn 
A  living  that  would  serve  his  turn; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

3.  The  rich  man's  son  inherits  wants, 

His  stomach  craves  for  dainty  fare; 
With  sated  heart,  he  hears  the  pants 
Of  toiling  hinds  with  brown  arms  bare, 
And  wearies  in  his  easy-chair; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 


FIFTH   READER. 

4.  What  doth,  the  poor  man's  son  inherit? 

Stout  muscles  and  a  sinewy  heart, 
A.  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit; 
King  of  two  hands,  he  does  his  part 
In  every  useful  toil  and  art; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

5.  What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit? 

Wishes  o'erjoyed  with  humble  things, 
A  rank  adjudged  by  toil-won  merit, 
Content  that  from  employment  springs, 
A  heart  that  in  his  labor  sings; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

6.  What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit? 

A  patience  learned  of  being  poor, 
Courage,  if  sorrow  come,  to  bear  it, 
A  fellow-feeling  that  is  sure 
To  make  the  outcast  bless  his  door; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

7.  0  rich  man's  son!   there  is  a  toil 

That  with  all  others  level  stands: 
Large  charity  doth  never  soil, 

But  only  whiten  soft,  white  hands, — 
This  is  the  best  crop  from  thy  lands; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
Worth  being  rich  to  hold  in  fee. 

8.  0  poor  man's  son!   scorn  not  thy  state; 

There  is  worse  weariness  than  thine 
In  merely  being  rich  and  great: 


230  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Toil  only  gives  the  soul  to  shine, 
And  makes  rest  fragrant  and  benign; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

Worth  being  poor  to  hold  in  fee. 

9.   Both,  heirs  to  some  six  feet  of  sod, 

Are  equal  in  the  earth  at  last; 
Both,  children  of  the  same  dear  God, 

Prove  title  to  your  heirship  vast 

By  record  of  a  well-filled  past; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
Well  worth  a  life  to  hold  in  fee. 

DEFINITIONS. —  1.  Her'it-age,  that  which  is  inherited,  or  taken 
by  descent,  from  an  ancestor.  3.  Sat'ed,  surfeited,  glutted.  Hinds, 
peasants,  countrymen.  5.  Ad-judged',  decided,  determined.  8.  Be- 
nign' (pro.  be-nin'),  having  healthful  qualities,  wholesome. 

NOTES.  —  1.    To  hold  in  fee,  means  to  have  as  an  inheritance. 
9.  Prove  title.    That  is,  to  prove  the  right  of  ownership. 


LXXI.    NO  EXCELLENCE  WITHOUT  LABOR. 

William  Wirt  (6.  1772,  d.  1834)  was  born  in  Bladensburg,  Md.  He 
was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1799,  and  afterwards  practiced  law,  with 
eminent  success,  at  Richmond  and  Norfolk,  Va.  He  was  one  of  the  coun- 
sel for  the  prosecution  in  the  trial  of  Aaron  Burr  for  treason.  From  1817 
to  1829  he  was  attorney-general  for  the  United  States.  In  1803  he  pub- 
lished the  "  Letters  of  a  British  Spy,"  a  work  which  attracted  much  at- 
tention, and  in  1817  a  "  Life  of  Patrick  Henry." 

1.  THE  education,  moral  and  intellectual,  of  every  indi- 
vidual, must  be  chiefly  his  own  work.  Rely  upon  it  that 
the  ancients  were  right;  both  in  morals  and  intellect  we 
give  the  final  shape  to  our  characters,  and  thus  become, 
emphatically,  the  architects  of  our  own  fortune.  How  else 


FIFTH   READER. 

could  it  happen  that  young  men,  who  have  had  precisely 
the  same  opportunities,  should  be  continually  presenting  us 
with  such  different  results,  and  rushing  to  such  opposite 
destinies  ? 

2.  Difference  of  talent  will  not  solve  it,  because  that  dif- 
ference is  very  often  in  favor  of  the  disappointed  candidate. 
You  will  see  issuing  from  the  walls  of  the  same  college, 
nay,  sometimes  from  the  bosom  of  the  same  family,  two 
young  men,  of  whom  one  will  be  admitted  to  be  a  genius 
of  high  order,  the  other  scarcely  above  the  point  of  medi- 
ocrity; yet  you  will  see  the  genius  sinking  and  perishing 
in  poverty,   obscurity,   and  wretchedness;    while,  on   the 
other  hand,  you  will  observe  the  mediocre  plodding  his 
slow  but  sure  way  up  the  hill  of  life,  gaining  steadfast 
footing  at  every  step,  and  mounting,  at  length,  to  eminence 
and  distinction,  an  ornament  to  his  family,  a  blessing  to 
his  country. 

3.  Now,  whose  work  is  this?    Manifestly  their  own. 
They  are  the  architects  of  their  respective  fortunes.     The 
best  seminary  of  learning  that  can  open  its  portals  to  you 
can  do  no  more  than  to  afford  you  the  opportunity  of  in- 
struction;   but   it   must   depend,    at   last,   on  yourselves, 
whether  you  will  be  instructed  or  not,  or  to  what  point 
you  will  push  your  instruction. 

4.  And  of  this  be  assured,  I  speak  from  observation  a 
certain  truth:   THERE  is  NO  EXCELLENCE  WITHOUT  GREAT 
LABOR.     It  is  the  fiat  of  fate,  from  which  no  power  of 
genius  can  absolve  you. 

5.  Genius,  unexerted,  is  like  the  poor  moth  that  flut- 
ters  around  a  candle  till  it  scorches  itself  to  death.      If 
genius   be   desirable  at  all,  it  is  only  of  that  great  and 
magnanimous    kind,    which,    like    the    condor    of    South 
America,  pitches  from  the  summit  of  Chimborazo,  above 
the  clouds,  and  sustains  itself  at  pleasure  in  that  empyreal 
region  with  an  energy  rather  invigorated  than  weakened  by 
the  effort 


232  ECLECTIC   SERIES. 

6.  It  is  this  capacity  for  high  and  long-continued  exer- 
tion, this  vigorous  power  of  profound  and  searching  inves- 
tigation, this  careering  and  wide-spreading  comprehension 
of  mind,  and  these  long  reaches  of  thought,  that 

"  Pluck  bright  honor  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 
Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 
And  pluck  up  drowned  honor  by  the  locks  j  " 

this  is  the  prowess,  and  these  the  hardy  achievements, 
which  are  to  enroll  your  names  among  the  great  men  of 
the  earth. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Mor'al,  relating  to  duty  or  obligation.  Ar'- 
ehi-teets,  builders,  makers.  Des'ti-ny,  ultimate  fate,  appointed  con- 
dition. 2.  Can'di-date,  one  who  seeks  after  some  honor  or  office. 
Gen'ius  (pro.  jen'yus),  a  man  of  superior  intellectual  powers.  Me- 
di-6e'ri-ty,  a  middle  state  or  degree  of  talents.  Me'di-6-ere  (pro. 
me'di-o-kr),  a  man  of  moderate  talents.  3.  Re-spee'tive,  particular, 
own.  4.  Ab-solve',setf?-ee,  release  from.  Fl' at,  a  decree.  5.  Con'- 
dor,  a  large  bird  of  the  vulture  family.  Em-pyr'e-al,  relating  to  the 
highest  and  purest  region  of  the  heavens.  6.  Ca-reer'ing,  moving 
rapidly.  Prow'ess  (pro.  prou'es),  bravery,  boldness. 

NOTES.  —  5.  Chimborazo  (pro.  chim-bo-ra'zo),  is  an  extinct  vol- 
cano in  Ecuador,  whose  height  is  20,517  feet  above  the  sea. 

6.  The  quotation  is  from  Shakespeare's  "King  Henry  IV," 
Part  I,  Act  i,  Scene  3. 


LXXII.    THE  OLD  HOUSE  CLOCK. 

1.   OH!   the  old,  old  clock  of  the  household  stock, 

Was  the  brightest  thing,  and  neatest; 
Its  hands,  though  old,  had  a  touch  of  gold, 
And  its  chimes  rang  still  the  sweetest; 


FIFTH   READER.  233 

JTwas  a  monitor,  too,  though  its  words  were  few, 

Yet  they  lived,  though  nations  altered; 
And  its  voice,  still  strong,  warned  old  and  young, 

When  the  voice  of  friendship  faltered : 
"  Tick !    tick  ! "    it  said,  "  quick,  quick,  to  bed : 

For  ten  I've  given  warning; 
Up!  up!  and  go,  or  else  you  know, 

You'll  never  rise  soon  in  the  morning!" 


2.   A  friendly  voice  was  that  old,  old  clock, 

As  it  stood  in  the  corner  smiling, 
And  blessed  the  time  with      merry  chime, 

The  wintry  hours  beguiling; 
But  a  cross  old  voice  was  that  tiresome  clock, 

As  it  called  at  daybreak  boldly; 
When  the  dawn  looked  gray  o'er  the  misty  way, 

And  the  early  air  looked  coldly: 
"Tick!  tick!"  it  said,  "quick  out  of  bed: 

For  five  I've  given  warning; 
You'll  never  have  health,  you'll  never  have  wealth, 

Unless  you  're  up  soon  in  the  morning ! " 


3.   Still  hourly  the  sound  goes  round  and  round, 

With  a  tone  that  ceases  never: 
While  tears  are  shed  for  bright  days  fled, 

And  the  old  friends  lost  forever! 
Its  heart  beats  on,  though  hearts  are  gone 

That  beat  like  ours,  though  stronger; 
Its  hands  still  move,  though  hands  we  love 

Are  clasped  on  earth  no  longer! 
"Tick!  tick!"  it  said,  "to  the  churchyard  bed, 

The  grave  hath  given  warning; 
Up !   up !   and  rise,  and  look  at  the  skies, 

And  prepare  for  a  heavenly  morning!" 


234  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LXXIII.    THE  EXAMINATION 


Daniel  Pierce  Thompson  (6.  1793,  d.  1868)  was  born  at  Charles 
town,  Mass.,  but  soon  removed  with  his  father  to  Vermont,  where  he 
lived  until  twenty  years  of  age,  on  a  farm.  His  means  of  schooling  were 
most  limited,  but  he  was  very  ambitious  and  seized  every  opportunity. 
By  his  own  efforts  he  earned  enough  money  to  carry  him  through  Mid- 
dlebury  College,  where  he  graduated  in  1820.  He  then  went  to  Virginia 
as  private  tutor,  and  while  there  was  entered  at  the  bar.  He  shortly  re- 
turned to  Vermont,  and  opened  a  law  office  in  Montpelier.  In  time  he 
was  elected  a  judge,  and  later  secretary  of  state.  From  his  college  days 
Mr.  Thompson  was  a  writer  for  the  various  magazines.  Among  his  novels 
may  be  mentioned  "Locke  Amsden,  the  Schoolmaster,"  "  May  Martin,  or 
the  Money  Diggers,"  "  The  Green  Mountain  Boys,"  and  "  The  Rangers,  or 
the  Tory's  Daughter." 


1.  "HAVE  you  any  questions  to  ask  me  in  the  other 
branches,  sir  ?  "  asked  Locke. 

"  Not  many,"  replied  Bunker.  "  There  is  reading,  writ- 
ing, grammar,  etc.,  which  I  know  nothing  about;  and  as 
to  them,  I  must,  of  course,  take  you  by  guess,  which  will 
not  be  much  of  a  guess,  after  all,  if  I  find  you  have 
thought  well  on  all  other  matters.  Do  you  understand 
philosophy  ?  " 

2.  "  To  what  branch  of  philosophy  do  you  allude,  sir  ?  " 
"  To  the  only  branch  there  is." 

"  But  you  are  aware  that  philosophy  is  divided  into  dif- 
ferent kinds ;  as,  natural,  moral,  and  intellectual." 

"Nonsense!  philosophy  is  philosophy,  and  means  the 
study  of  the  reasons  and  causes  of  the  things  which  we 
see,  whether  it  be  applied  to  a  crazy  man's  dreams,  or  the 
roasting  of  potatoes.  Have  you  attended  to  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  a  considerable  extent,  sir." 

3.  "I  will  put  a  question  or  two,  then,  if  you  please. 
What  is  the  reason  of  the  fact,  for  it  is  a  fact,  that  the 
damp  breath  of  a  person  blown  on  a  good  knife  and  on  a 
bad  one,  will  soonest  disappear  from  the  well-tempered 
blade?" 


FIFTH   READER.  ^35 

"It  may  be  owing  to  the  difference  in  the  polish  of  the 
two  blades,  perhaps,"  replied  Locke. 

4.  "Ah!   that  is  an  answer  that  don't  go  deeper  than 
the  surface,"  rejoined  Bunker,  humorously.     "As  good  a 
thinker  as  you  evidently  are,  you  have  not  thought  on 
this  subject,  I  suspect.     It  took  me  a  week,  in  all,  I  pre- 
sume, of   hard   thinking,  and    making    experiments   at  a 
blacksmith's   shop,  to  discover  the   reason  of  this.     It  is 
not  the  polish ;   for  take  two  blades  of  equal  polish,  and 
the  breath  will  disappear  from  one  as  much  quicker  than 
it  does  from  the  other,  as  the  blade  is  better.     It  is  because 
the  material  of  the  blade  is  more  compact  or  less  porous 
in  one  case  than  in  the  other. 

5.  "In  the  first  place,  I  ascertained  that  the  steel  was 
made   more   compact  by  being  hammered  and  tempered, 
and  that  the  better  it  was  tempered  the  more  compact  it 
would  become ;  the  size  of  the  pores  being  made,  of  course, 
less  in  the  same  proportion.     Well,  then,  I  saw  the  reason 
I  was  in  search  of,  at  once.     For  we  know  a  wet  sponge  is 
longer  in  drying  than  a  wet  piece  of  green  wood,  because 
the  pores  of  the  first  are  bigger.     A  seasoned  or  shrunk 
piece  of  wood  dries  quicker  than  a  green  one,  for  the  same 
reason. 

6.  "Or  you   might   bore  a  piece   of  wood  with   large 
gimlet  holes,  and  another  with  small  ones,  fill  them  both 
with  water,  and  let  them  stand  till  the  water  evaporated, 
and  the  difference  of  time  it  would  take  to  do  this  would 
make  the  case  still  more  plain.     So  with  the  blades:  the 
vapor  lingers  longest  on  the  worst  wrought  and  tempered 
one,  because  the  pores,  being  larger,  take  in  more  of  the 
wet  particles,  and  require  more  time  in  drying." 

7.  "Your  theory  is  at  least  a  very  ingenious  one,"  ob- 
served Locke,  "and  I  am  reminded  by  it  of  another  of 
the  natural  phenomena,  of  the  true  explanation  of  which 
I  have  not  been  able  to  satisfy  myself.     It  is  this :  what 
makes  the  earth  freeze  harder  and  deeper  under  a  trodden 


236  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

path  than  the  untrodden  earth  around  it  ?  All  that  I  have 
asked,  say  it  is  because  the  trodden  earth  is  more  compact. 
But  is  that  reason  a  sufficient  one  ?  " 

8.  "No,"  said  Bunker,  "but  I  will  tell  you  what  the 
reason  is,  for  I  thought  that  out  long  ago.     You  know 
that,  in  the  freezing  months,  much  of  the  warmth  we  get 
is  given  out  by  the  earth,  from  which,  at  intervals,  if  not 
constantly,  to   some    extent,  ascend  the  warm  vapors   to 
mingle  with  and  moderate  the  cold  atmosphere  above. 

9.  "Now  these  ascending  streams  of  warm  air  would  be 
almost  wholly  obstructed  by  the  compactness  of  a  trodden 
path,  and  they  would  naturally  divide  at  some  distance 
below  it,  and  pass  up   through  the   loose   earth  on  each 
side,  leaving  the  ground  along  the  line  of  the  path,  to  a 
great  depth  beneath  it,  a  cold,  dead  mass,  through  which 
the  frost  would  continue  to  penetrate,  unchecked  by  the 
internal  heat,  which,  in  its  unobstructed  ascent  on  each 
side,  would  be  continually  checking  or  overcoming  the  frost 
in  its  action  on  the  earth  around. 

10.  "That,  sir,  is  the  true  philosophy  of  the  case,  you 
may  depend  upon  it.     But  we  will  now  drop  the  discussion 
of  these  matters;  for  I  am  abundantly  satisfied  that  you 
have  not  only  knowledge  enough,  but  that  you  can  think 
for  yourself.     And  now,  sir,  all  I  wish  to  know  further 
about  you  is,  whether  you  can  teach  others  to  think,  which 
is  half  the  battle  with  a  teacher.     But  as  I  have  had  an 
eye  on  this  point,  while  attending  to  the  others,  probably 
one  experiment,  which  I  will  ask  you  to  make  on  one  of 
the  boys  here,  will  be  all  I  shall  want." 

"  Proceed,  sir,"  said  the  other. 

11.  "  Ay,  sir,"  rejoined  Bunker,  turning  to  the  open  fire- 
place, in  which  the  burning  wood  was  sending  up  a  column 
of  smoke,  "there,  you  see  that  smoke  rising,  don't  you? 
Well,  you  and  I  know  the  reason  why  smoke  goes  upward, 
but  my  youngest  boy  does  not,  I  think.     Now  take  your 
own  way,  and  see  if  you  can  make  him  understand  it." 


FIFTH   READER.  237 

12.  Locke,   after  a  moment's    reflection,   and  a  glance 
round  the  room  for  something  to  serve  for  apparatus,  took 
from  a  shelf,  where  he  had  espied  a  number  of  articles, 
the  smallest  of  a  set  of  cast-iron  cart  boxes,  as  are  usually 
termed  the  round  hollow  tubes  in  which  the  axletree  of  a 
carriage  turns.     Then  selecting  a  tin  cup  that  would  just 
take  in  the  box,  and  turning  into  the  cup  as  much  water 
as  he  judged,  with  the  box,  would  fill   it,  he   presented 
them  separately  to  the  boy,  and  said, 

"  There,  my  lad,  tell  me  which  of  these  is  the  heavier. " 

13.  "Why,  the  cart  box,  to  be  sure,"  replied  the  boy, 
taking  the  cup,  half-filled  with  water,  in  one  hand,  and  the 
hollow  iron  in  the  other. 

"Then  you  think  this  iron  is  heavier  than  as  much 
water  as  would  fill  the  place  of  it,  do  you  ? "  resumed 
Locke. 

"Why,  yes,  as  heavy  again,  and  more  too — I  know  it 
is,"  promptly  said  the  boy. 

14.  "  Well,  sir,  now  mark  what  I  do/'  proceeded  the 
former,  dropping  into  the  cup  the  iron  box,  through  the 
hollow  of  which  the  water  instantly  rose  to  the  brim  of 
the  vessel. 

"  There,  you  saw  that  water  rise  to  the  top  of  the  cup, 
did  you  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  did." 
"  Very  well,  what  caused  it  to  do  so  ?  " 

15.  "  Why,  I  know  well  enough,  if  I  could  only  think : 
why,  it  is  because  the  iron  is  the  heavier,  and  as  it  comes 
all  around  the  water  so  it  can't  get  away  sideways,  it  is 
forced  up." 

"  That  is  right ;  and  now  I  want  you  to  tell  what  makes 
that  smoke  rise  up  the  chimney." 

16.  "Why,  — I   guess,"  replied  the  boy,  hesitating,  "I 
guess,  —  I  guess  I  don't  know." 

"  Did  you  ever  get  up  in  a  chair  to  look  on  some  high 
shelf,  so  that  your  head  was  brought  near  the  ceiling  of  a 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

heated  room,  in  winter  ?  and  did  you  notice  any  difference 
between  the  air  up  there  and  the  air  near  the  floor  ?  " 

17.  "Yes,  I  remember  I  have,  and   found  the   air   up 
there  as  warm  as  mustard;    and  when  I  got   down,  and 
bent  my  head  near  the  floor  to  pick  up  something,  I  found 
it  as  cold  as  could  be." 

"  That  is  ever  the  case ;  but  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  how 
the  cold  air  always  happens  to  settle  down  to  the  lower 
part  of  the  room,  while  the  warm  air,  somehow,  at  the 
same  time,  gets  above." 

18.  "  Why,  why,  heavy  things  settle  down,  and  the  cold 
air  —  yes,  yes,  that  7s  it,  I  am  sure  —  the  cold  air  is  heavier, 
and  so  settles  down,  and  crowds  up  the  warm  air." 

"Very  good.  You  then  understand  that  cold  air  is 
heavier  than  the  heated  air,  as  that  iron  is  heavier  than 
the  water;  so  now  we  will  go  back  to  the  main  question  — 
what  makes  the  smoke  go  upwards  ?  " 

19.  "  Oh !  I  see  now  as  plain  as  day ;  the  cold  air  settles 
down  all  round,  like  the  iron  box,  and  drives  up  the  hot 
air  as  fast  as  the  fire  heats  it,  in  the  middle,  like  the  water ; 
and  so  the  hot  air  carries  the  smoke  along  up  with  it,  just 
as  feathers  and  things   in  a  whirlwind.    Well!    I  have 
found  out  what  makes  smoke  go  up  —  isn't  it  curious?" 

20.  "Done   like  a  philosopher!"    cried  Bunker.     "The 
thing  is   settled.      I   will   grant   that  you  are  a  teacher 
among  a  thousand.     You  can  not  only  think  yourself,  but 
can  teach  others  to  think;   so  you  may  call  the  position 
yours  as  quick  as  you  please." 


DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Tn-tel-lee'tu-al,  treating  of  the  mind.  3.  Tem'- 
pered,  brought  to  a  proper  degree  of  hardness.  4.  Com-paet',  closely 
and  firmly  united,  solid,  dense.  4.  Pdr'ous,full  of  pores  or  minute 
openings.  6.  E-vap'o-rat-ed,  passed  off  in  vapor.  7.  In-gen'ious 
(pro.  in-jen'yus),  well  formed,  skillful.  7.  Phe-nom'e-non,  whatever 
w  presented  to  the  eye.  8.  In'ter-val§,  spaces  of  time.  12.  Ap-pa- 
ra'tus,  utensils  for  performing  experiments. 


FIFTH    READER.  239 

NOTE.  —  Locke  Amsden  is  represented  as  a  bright  young  student 
in  search  of  a  position  as  teacher  of  a  district  school  in  Vermont. 
Mr.  Bunker,  the  "  Examining  Committee,"  is  a  queer,  shrewd  old 
farmer,  who  can  neither  read  nor  write,  but  by  careful  observa- 
tion has  picked  up  a  large  amount  of  valuable  information.  The 
story  opens  in  the  midst  of  the  examination. 


LXXIV.    THE  ISLE   OF  LONG  AGO. 

Benjamin  Franklin  Taylor  (b.  1819,  d.  1887)  was  born  at  Lowville, 
X.Y.  He  graduated  at  Madison  University,  of  which  his  father  was 
president.  In  1845  he  published  "  Attractions  of  Language."  For  many 
years  he  was  literary  editor  of  the  "  Chicago  Journal."  Mr.  Taylor  wrote 
considerably  for  the  magazines,  was  the  author  of  many  well-known 
favorite  pieces  both  in  prose  and  verse,  and  achieved  success  as  a 
lecturer. 


1.  OH,  a  wonderful  stream  is  the  river  of  Time, 

As  it  runs  through  the  realm  of  tears, 
With  a  faultless  rhythm  and  a  musical  rhyme, 
And  a  boundless  sweep  and  a  surge  sublime, 

As  it  blends  with  the  ocean  of  Years. 

2.  How  the  winters  are  drifting,  like  flakes  of  snow, 

And  the  summers,  like  buds  between; 
And  the  year  in  the  sheaf  —  so  they  come  and  they  go, 
On  the  river's  breast,  with  its  ebb  and  flow, 

As  it  glides  in  the  shadow  and  sheen. 

3.  There's  a  magical  isle  up  the  river  of  Time, 

Where  the  softest  of  airs  are  playing; 
There's  a  cloudless  sky  and  a  tropical  clime, 
And  a  song  as  sweet  as  a  vesper  chime, 

And  the  Junes  with  the  roses  are  staying. 


240  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  And  the  name  of  that  isle  is  the  Long  Ago, 

And  we  bury  our  treasures  there; 
There  are  brows  of  beauty  and  bosoms  of  snow  — 
There  are  heaps  of  dust  —  but  we  love  them  so!  — 

There  are  trinkets  and  tresses  of  hair; 

5.  There  are  fragments  of  song  that  nobody  sings, 

And  a  part  of  an  infant's  prayer, 
There's  a  lute  unswept,  and  a  harp  without  strings; 
There  are  broken  vows  and  pieces  of  rings, 

And  the  garments  that  she  used  to  wear. 

6.  There  are  hands  that  are  waved,  when  the  fairy  shore 

By  the  mirage  is  lifted  in  air; 

And  we  sometimes  hear,  through  the  turbulent  roar, 
Sweet  voices  we  heard  in  the  days  gone  before, 

When  the  wind  down  the  river  is  fair. 

7.  Oh,  remembered  for  aye  be  the  blessed  Isle, 

All  the  day  of  our  life  till  night  — 
When  the  evening  comes  with  its  beautiful  smile, 
And  our  eyes  are  closing  to  slumber  awhile, 

May  that  "  Greenwood "  of  Soul  be  in  sight ! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Realm,  region,  country.  Rhythm,  the  har- 
monious flow  of  vocal  sounds.  Rhyme,  a  word  answering  in  sound 
to  another  word.  Surge,  a  great,  rolling  swell  of  water.  3.  Ves'per, 
pertaining  to  the  evening  service  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
6.  Mi-rage'  (pro.  me-razh'),  an  optical  illusion  causing  objects  at  a 
distance  to  seem  as  though  suspended  in  the  air.  7.  Aye  (pro.  a), 
always,  ever. 

NOTES.  —  5.  A  lute  unswept ;  that  is,  unplayed. 

7.  Greenwood  is  a  noted  and  very  beautiful  cemetery  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  Brooklyn,  N.Y.  The  expression  means, 
then,  the  resting  place  of  the  soul. 


FIFTH    READER.  241 


.     THE   BOSTON   MASSACRE. 

George  Bancroft  (b.  1800,  d.  1891)  was  born  at  Worcester,  Mass. 
He  was  an  ambitious  student,  and  graduated  at  Harvard  College  before 
he  was  eighteen  years  of  age.  He  then  traveled  in  Europe,  spending 
some  time  at  the  German  universities.  On  his  return,  in  1822,  he  was 
appointed  tutor  in  Greek  at  Harvard.  His  writings  at  this  time  were  a 
small  volume  of  original  poems,  some  translations  from  Schiller  and 
Goethe,  and  a  few  striking  essays.  Mr.  Bancroft  has  held  numerous  high 
political  offices.  In  1838  he  was  appointed  collector  of  the  port  at  Boston ; 
in  1845  he  was  made  secretary  of  the  navy ;  in  1849  he  was  sent  as  United ' 
States  Minister  to  Great  Britain ;  and  in  1867  he  was  sent  in  the  same 
capacity  to  Prussia.  The  work  which  has  given  Mr.  Bancroft  his  great 
literary  reputation  is  his  "History  of  the  United  States,  from  the  Dis- 
covery of  the  American  Continent."  The  first  volume  appeared  in  1834. 
Philosophical  in  reasoning,  interesting,  terse  in  style,  and  founded  on 
careful  research,  under  the  most  favorable  advantages,  the  work  stands 
alone  in  its  sphere. 

1.  THE  evening  of  the  fifth  came  on.     The  young  moon 
was  shining  brightly  in  a  cloudless  winter  sky,  and  its  light 
was  increased  by  a  new-fallen  snow.     Parties  of  soldiers 
were  driving  about  the  streets,  making  a  parade  of  valor, 
challenging  resistance,  and  striking  the  inhabitants  indis- 
criminately with  sticks  or  sheathed  cutlasses. 

2.  A  band,  which  poured  out  from  Murray's  barracks, 
in  Brattle  Street,  armed  with  clubs,  cutlasses,  and  bayo- 
nets,   provoked    resistance,   and  a  fray  ensued.      Ensign 
Maul,  at  the  gate  of  the  barrack  yard,  cried  to  the  sol- 
diers:   "Turn  out,  and  I  will  stand  by  you;  kill  them; 
stick  them ;  knock  them  down ;  run  your  bayonets  through 
them."     One  soldier  after  another  leveled  a  firelock,  and 
threatened  to  "  make  a  lane  "  through  the  crowd. 

3.  Just  before  nine,  as  an  officer  crossed  King  Street, 
now  State  Street,  a  barber's  lad  cried  after  him :  "  There 
goes  a  mean  fellow  who  hath  not  paid  my  father  for  dress- 
ing his  hair ; "  on  which,  the  sentinel  stationed  at  the  west- 
erly end  of  the  customhouse,  on  the  corner  of  King  Street 
and  Exchange  Lane,  left  his  post,  and  with  his  musket 
gave  the  boy  a  stroke  on  the  head,  that  made  him  stagger 
and  cry  for  pain. 

(5.— 16,, 


242  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  The  street  soon  became  clear,  and  nobody  troubled 
the  sentry,  when  a  party  of  soldiers  issued  violently  from 
the  main  guard,  their  arms  glittering  in  the   moonlight, 
and  passed  on,  hallooing :    "  Where  are  they  ?  where  are 
they?     Let  them  come." 

5.  Presently  twelve  or  fifteen  more,  uttering  the  same 
cries,  rushed  from  the  south  into  King  Street,  and  so  by 
the  way  of  Cornhill  towards  Murray's  barracks.      "Pray, 
soldiers,  spare  my  life,"  cried  a  boy  of  twelve,  whom  they 
met.     "No,  no,  I'll  kill  you  all,"  answered  one  of  them, 
and  knocked  him  down  with  his  cutlass.     They  abused  and 
insulted  several  persons  at  their  doors  and  others  in  the 
street;    "running  about  like  madmen  in  a  fury,"  crying, 
"  Fire  !  "  which  seemed  their  watchword,  and,  "  Where  are 
they  ?     Knock    them   down."     Their  outrageous   behavior 
occasioned  the  ringing  of  the   bell  at  the  head  of  King 
Street. 

6.  The  citizens,  whom  the  alarm  set  in  motion,  came 
out  with  canes  and  clubs;  and,  partly  by  the  interference 
of  well-disposed  officers,  partly  by  the  courage  of  Crispus 
Attacks,  a  mulatto,  and  some  others,  the  fray  at  the  bar- 
racks was  soon  over.     Of  the  citizens,  the  prudent  shouted, 
"  Home !  home ! "  others,  it  is  said,  cried  out,  "  Huzza  for 
the  main  guard!  there  is  the  nest;"  but  the  main  guard 
was  not  molested  the  whole  evening. 

7  A  body  of  soldiers  came  up  Eoyal  Exchange  Lane, 
crying,  "  Where  are  the  cowards  ?  "  and,  brandishing  their 
arms,  passed  through  King  Street.  From  ten  to  twenty 
boys  came  after  them,  asking,  "Where  are  they?  where 
are  they  ?  "  "  There  is  the  soldier  who  knocked  me  down," 
said  the  barber's  boy ;  and  they  began  pushing  one  another 
towards  the  sentinel.  He  loaded  and  primed  his  musket. 
"  The  lobster  is  going  to  fire,"  cried  a  boy.  Waving  his 
piece  about,  the  sentinel  pulled  the  trigger. 

8.  "  If  you  fire  you  must  die  for  it,"  said  Henry  Knox. 
who  was  passing  by.  "I  don't  care,"  replied  the  sentry, 


FIFTH    READER.  248 

"if  they  touch  me,  I'll  fire."  "Fire!"  shouted  the  boys, 
for  they  were  persuaded  he  could  not  do  it  without  leave 
from  a  civil  officer;  and  a  young  fellow  spoke  out,  "We 
will  knock  him  down  for  snapping,"  while  they  whistled 
through  their  fingers  and  huzzaed.  "  Stand  off ! "  said  the 
sentry,  and  shouted  aloud,  "Turn  out,  main  guard!" 
"They  are  killing  the  sentinel,"  reported  a  servant  from 
the  customhouse,  running  to  the  main  guard.  "  Turn  out ! 
why  don't  you  turn  out  ?  "  cried  Preston,  who  was  captain 
of  the  day,  to  the  guard. 

9.  A   party   of   six,  two   of   whom,  Kilroi   and   Mont- 
gomery, had  been  worsted  at  the  ropewalk,  formed,  with  a 
corporal  in  front  and  Preston  following.     With   bayonets 
fixed,  they  "  rushed  through  the   people "  upon  the  trot, 
cursing  them,   and  pushing    them    as    they  went    along. 
They  found  about  ten  persons   round  the   sentry,  while 
about  fifty  or  sixty  came  down  with  them.     "For  God's 
sake,"  said  Knox,  holding  Preston  by  the  coat,  "  take  your 
men  back  again;   if  they  fire,  your  life  must  answer  for 
the  consequences."     "I  know  what  I  am  about,"  said  he 
hastily,  and  much  agitated. 

10.  None  pressed  on  them  or  provoked  them  till  they 
began  loading,  when  a  party  of  about  twelve  in  number, 
with  sticks  in  their  hands,  moved  from  the  middle  of  the 
street  where  they  had  been  standing,  gave  three  cheers, 
and  passed  along  the  front  of  the  soldiers,  whose  muskets 
some  of  them  struck  as  they  went  by.     "You  are  cow- 
ardly rascals,"  they  said,  "for  bringing  arms  against  naked 
men."     "  Lay  aside  your  guns,  and  we  are  ready  for  you." 
"Are  the  soldiers  loaded?"  inquired  Palmes  of  Preston. 
"Yes,"  he  answered,   "with    powder    and    ball."     "Are 
they  going  to  fire  upon  the  inhabitants  ?  "  asked  Theodore 
Bliss.     "They  can  not,  without  my  orders,"  replied  Pres- 
ton;   while   "the  town-born"  called  out,  "Come  on,  you 
rascals,  you  bloody  backs,  you  lobster  scoundrels,  fire,  if 
you  dare.     We  know  you  dare  not." 


244  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

11.  Just  then,  Montgomery  received  a  blow  from  a  stick 
which  had  hit  his  musket ;   and  the   word  "  fire ! "  being 
given  by  Preston,  he  stepped  a  little  to  one  side,  and  shot 
Attucks,  who  at  the  time  was  quietly  leaning  on   a  long 
stick.      "  Don't  fire  ! "   said   Langf  ord,   the  watchman,   to 
Kilroi,  looking  him  full  in  the  face;   but  yet  he   did  so, 
and  Samuel  Gray,  who  was  standing  next  Langford,  fell 
lifeless.     The  rest  fired  slowly  and  in  succession  on  the 
people,  who  were  dispersing.     Three  persons  were   killed, 
among  them  Attucks,  the  mulatto;   eight  were  wounded, 
two  of  them  mortally.     Of  all  the  eleven,  not  more  than 
one  had  any  share  in  the  disturbance. 

12.  So  infuriated  were  the  soldiers  that,  when  the  men 
returned  to  take  up  the  dead,  they  prepared  to  fire  again, 
but  were  checked  by  Preston,  while  the  Twenty-ninth  Regi- 
ment appeared  under  arms  in  King  Street.     "This  is  our 
time,"  cried  the  soldiers  of  the  Fourteenth ;  and  dogs  were 
never  seen  more  greedy  for  their  prey. 

13.  The  bells  rung  in  all  the  churches ;   the  town  drums 
beat.     "  To  arms !  to  arms  ! "  was  the  cry.     "  Our  hearts," 
said  Warren,  "  beat  to  arms,  almost  resolved  by  one  stroke 
to  avenge  the   death   of  our   slaughtered  brethren;"   but 
they  stood  self-possessed,  demanding  justice  according  to 
the  law.     "Did  you  not  know  that  you  should  not  have 
fired    without    the    order  of  a  civil   magistrate?"   asked 
Hutchinson,  on  meeting  Preston.     "I   did  it,"   answered 
Preston,  "  to  save  my  men." 

14.  The  people  would  not  be  pacified  or  retire  till  the 
regiment  was  confined  to  the  guardroom  and  the  barracks ; 
and  Hutchinson  himself  gave  assurances  that  instant  in- 
quiries should  be  made  by  the  county  magistrates.     One 
hundred  persons  remained  to  keep  watch  on  the  examina- 
tion, which  lasted  till  three  hours  after  midnight.     A  war- 
rant was  issued  against  Preston,  who  surrendered  himself 
to  the  sheriff ;  and  the  soldiers  of  his  party  were  delivered 
up  and  committed  to  prison. 


FIFTH    READER.  245 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  In-dis-erim'i-nate-ly,  without  distinction.  2 
En-sued',  followed,  resulted  from.  En'sign  (pro .  en'sin  ) ,  an  officer  of 
low  rank.  Firelock,  an  old-style  musket,  with  a  flintlock.  7.  Bran'- 
dish-ing,  waving,  flourishing.  13.  Self'-pos-sessed,  undisturbed,  calm 
in  mind,  manner,  etc.  14.  Pa^'i-fled,  calmed,  quieted.  War/rant,  a 
writ  authorizing  an  officer  to  seize  an  offender. 

NOTES.  —  This  massacre  took  place  Monday,  March  5, 1770. 
5.  Cornhill  is  the  name  of  a  street  in  Boston. 

7.  Lobster  was  the  epithet  applied  to  a  British  soldier  by  the 
Americans  on  account  of  his  red  coat. 

8.  Henry  Knox  (b.  1750,  d.  1806)  was  then  a  bookseller  in 
Boston.     He  afterwards  became  one  of  the  American  generals. 

9.  Ropewalk.     The  active  trouble  resulting  in  the  massacre 
arose  from  a  soldier's  being  thrashed  the  Friday  before  at  Gray's 
ropewalk,  where  he  had  challenged  one  of  the  workmen  to  fight; 
other  soldiers  joined  in  the  affray  from  time  to  time,  but  were 
always  worsted. 

13.  Warren.  This  was  Joseph  Warren  (6.  1741,  d.  1775),  the 
American  patriot,  killed  shortly  after  at  Bunker  Hill. 

Thomas  Hutchinson  was  at  this  time  lieutenant  governor  of 
Massachusetts.  Although  born  in  Boston,  he  sided  with  the 
British  government  in  the  troubles  before  the  Revolution,  and 
sailed  for  England  in  1774. 


LXXVI.    DEATH  OP  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

Eliza  Lee  Follen  (b.  1787,  d.  1859)  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.  Her 
maiden  name  was  Cabott.  In  1828,  she  married  Charles  Follen,  Professor 
of  the  German  language  and  its  literature  in  Harvard  University.  Her 
principal  works  are  "  Sketches  of  Married  Life,"  "  The  Skeptic,"  "Twi- 
light Stories,"  and  "  Little  Songs."  For  several  years  Mrs.  Follen  was 
editor  of  the  "  Children's  Friend." 

1.   THE  young,  the  lovely,  pass  away, 

Ne'er  to  be  seen  again; 
Earth's  fairest  flowers  too  soon  decay, 
Its  blasted  trees  remain. 


246  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Full  oft,  we  see  the  brightest  thing 

That  lifts  its  head  on  high, 
Smile  in  the  light,  then  droop  its  wing, 
And  fade  away  and  die. 

3.  And  kindly  is  the  lesson  given; 

Then  dry  the  falling  tear: 
They  came  to  raise  our  hearts  to  Heaven; 
They  go  to  call  us  there. 


LXXVII.    SNOW  PALLING. 

John  James  Piatt   (b.  1835, )  was  born  in  Dearborn  County, 

Ind.,  and  is  of  French  descent.  He  began  to  write  verses  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  and  has  been  connected  editorially  with  several  papers.  Several 
editions  of  his  poems  have  been  issued  from  time  to  time,  each  edition 
usually  containing  some  additional  poems.  Of  these  volumes  we  may 
mention:  "Poems  in  Sunshine  and  Firelight,"  "Western  Windows," 
"The  Lost  Farm,"  and  "Poems  of  House  and  Home." 


1.  THE  wonderful  snow  is  falling 

Over  river  and  woodland  and  wold; 
The  trees  bear  spectral  blossom 
In  the  moonshine  blurr'd  and  cold. 

2.  There's  a  beautiful  garden  in  Heaven; 

And  these  are  the  banished  flowers, 
Tailing  and  driven  and  drifted 
Into  this  dark  world  of  ours. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Wold,  a  plain  or  open  country,  a  country 
without  wood  whether  hiUy  or  not.  Spee'tral,  ghostly.  2.  Ban'ished, 
condemned  to  exile,  driven  away. 


FIFTH    READER.  247 


LXXVIII.    SQUEERS'S  METHOD. 

Charles  Dickens  (6. 1812,  d.  1870) .  This  celebrated  novelist  was  born 
in  Portsmouth,  England.  He  began  his  active  life  as  a  lawyer's  appren- 
tice, in  London ;  but  soon  became  a  reporter,  and  followed  this  occupation 
from  1831  to  1836.  His  first  book  was  entitled  "  Sketches  of  London 
Society,  by  Boz."  In  1837  he  published  the  "  Pickwick  Papers,"  a  work 
which  established  his  reputation  as  a  writer.  His  other  works  followed 
with  great  rapidity,  and  his  last,  "  Edwin  Drood,"  was  unfinished  when  he 
died.  He  visited  America  in  1842  and  in  1867.  He  is  buried  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  Mr.  Dickens  excelled  in  humor  and  pathos,  and  was 
particularly  successful  in  delineating  the  joys  and  griefs  of  childhood. 
His  writings  have  a  tendency  to  prompt  to  deeds  of  kindness  and  benevo- 
lence. The  following  extract  is  taken  from  "  Nicholas  Nickleby,"  one  of 
the  best  of  his  novels. 

1.  "COME,"  said  Squeers,  "let's  go  to  the  schoolroom j 
and  lend  me  a  hand  with  my  school  coat,  will  you  ?  " 

Nicholas  assisted  his  master  to  put  on  an  old  fustian 
shooting  jacket,  which  he  took  down  from  a  peg  in  the 
passage;  and  Squeers,  arming  himself  with  his  cane,  led 
the  way  across  a  yard  to  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"There,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  as  they  stepped  in  to 
gether ;  "  this  is  our  shop,  Nickleby." 

2.  It  was  such  a  crowded  scene,  and  there  were  so  many 
objects  to  attract  attention,  that  at  first  Nicholas   stared 
about  him,  really  without  seeing  anything  at  all.     By  de- 
grees, however,  the  place   resolved  itself  into  a  bare  and 
dirty  room  with  a  couple  of  windows,  whereof  a  tenth  part 
might  be  of   glass,  the  remainder  being  stopped  up  with 
old  copy  books  and  paper. 

3.  There  were  a  couple  of  long,  old,  rickety  desks,  cut 
and  notched,  and  inked  and   damaged  in  every  possible 
way ;  two  or  three  forms,  a  detached  desk  for  Squeers,  and 
another  for  his  assistant.     The  ceiling  was  supported  like 
that  of  a  barn,  by  crossbeams  and  rafters,  and  the  wails 
were   so   stained   and    discolored   that  it  was   impossible 
to  tell  whether  they  had  ever  been  touched  by  paint  or 
whitewash. 


248  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  Pale  and  haggard  faces,  lank  and  bony  figures,  chil- 
dren with  the  countenances  of  old  men,  deformities  with 
irons  apon  their  limbs,  boys  of  stunted  growth,  and  others 
whose  long,  meager  legs  would  hardly  bear  their  stooping 
bodies,  all  crowded  on  the  view  together.     There  were  little 
faces  which  should  have  been  handsome,  darkened  with  the 
scowl  of  sullen,  dogged  suffering ;  there  was  childhood  with 
the  light  of  its  eye  quenched,  its  beauty  gone,  and  its 
helplessness  alone  remaining. 

5.  And  yet  this  scene,  painful  as  it  was,  had  its  grotesque 
features,  which,  in  a  less  interested  observer  than  Nicholas, 
might  have  provoked  a  smile.     Mrs.  Squeers  stood  at  one 
of  the  desks,  presiding  over  an  immense  basin  of  brimstone 
and  treacle,  of  which  delicious  compound  she  administered 
a  large  installment  to  each  boy  in  succession,  using  for  the 
purpose  a  common  wooden  spoon,  which  might  have  been 
originally  manufactured  for  some  gigantic  top,  and  which 
widened  every  young  gentleman's  mouth  considerably,  they 
being  all  obliged,  under  heavy  corporeal  penalties,  to  take 
in  the  whole  bowl  at  a  gasp. 

6.  "Now,"  said  Squeers,  giving  the  desk   a  great  rap 
with  his  cane,  which  made  half  the  little  boys  nearly  jump 
out  of  their  boots,  "  is  that  physicking  over  ?  " 

"  Just  over,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  choking  the  last  boy  in 
her  hurry,  and  tapping  the  crown  of  his  head  with  the 
wooden  spoon  to  restore  him.  "Here,  you  Smike:  take 
away  now.  Look  sharp!" 

7.  Smike  shuffled  out  with  the  basin,  and  Mrs.  Squeers 
hurried  out  after  him  into  a  species  of  washhouse,  where 
there  was  a  small  fire,  and  a  large  kettle,  together  with  a 
number  of  little  wooden  bowls  which  were  arranged  upon 
a  board.     Into  these  bowls  Mrs.  Squeers,  assisted  by  the 
hungry  servant,  poured  a  brown  composition  which  looked 
like  diluted  pincushions  without  the  covers,  and  was  called 
porridge.     A  minute  wedge  of  brown  bread  was  inserted 
in  each  bowl,  and  when  they  had  eaten  their  porridge  by 


FIFTH   READER. 


249 


means  of  the  bread,  the  boys  ate  the  bread  itself,  and  had 
finished  their  breakfast,  whereupon  Mr.  Squeers  went  away 
to  his  own. 

8.  After  some  half-hour's  delay  Mr.  Squeers  reappeared, 
and  the  boys  took  their  places  and  their  books,  of  which 
latter  commodity  the  average  might  be  about  one  to  eight 


250  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

learners.  A  few  minutes  having  elapsed,  during  which  Mr. 
Squeers  looked  very  profound,  as  if  he  had  a  perfect  appre- 
hension of  what  was  inside  all  the  books,  and  could  say 
every  word  of  their  contents  by  heart,  if  he  only  chose  to 
take  the  trouble,  that  gentleman  called  up  the  first  class. 

9.  Obedient  to  this  summons  there  ranged  themselves 
in  front  of  the  schoolmaster's  desk,  half  a  dozen  scarecrows, 
out  at  knees  and  elbows,  one  of  whom  placed  a  torn  and 
filthy  book  beneath  his  learned  eye. 

"  This  is  the  first  class  in  English  spelling  and  philosophy, 
Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  beckoning  Nicholas  to  stand  beside 
him.  "We'll  get  up  a  Latin  one,  and  hand  that  over  to 
you.  Now,  then,  where  's  the  first  boy  ?  " 

10.  "  Please,  sir,  he 's  cleaning  the  back  parlor  window," 
said  the  temporary  head  of  the  philosophical  class. 

"  So  he  is,  to  be  sure,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "  We  go  upon 
the  practical  mode  of  teaching,  Nickleby ;  the  regular  edu- 
cation system.  C-1-e-a-n,  clean,  verb  active,  to  make  bright, 
to  scour.  W-i-n,  win,  d-e-r,  der,  winder,  a  casement.  When 
the  boy  knows  this  out  of  book,  he  goes  and  does  it.  It 's 
just  the  same  principle  as  the  use  of  the  globes.  Where  *s 
the  second  boy  ?  " 

11.  "Please,  sir,  he  is  weeding  the  garden,"  replied  a 
small  voice. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Squeers,  by  no  means  disconcerted, 
"so  he  is.  B-o-t,  bot,  t-i-n,  tin,  n-e-y,  ney,  bottinney,  noun 
substantive,  a  knowledge  of  plants.  When  he  has  learned 
that  bottinney  means  a  knowledge  of  plants,  he  goes  and 
knows  'em.  That's  our  system,  Nickleby:  what  do  you 
think  of  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  very  useful  one,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Nicholas, 
significantly. 

12.  "  I  believe  you,"  rejoined  Squeers,  not  remarking  the 
emphasis  of  his  usher.     "  Third  boy,  what 's  a  horse  ?  " 

"A  beast,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Squeers.     "  Ain't  it,  Nickleby  ?  " 


FIFTH   READER.  251 

"I  believe  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  sir,"  answered 
Nicholas. 

"Of  course  there  isn't,"  said  Squeers.  "A  horse  is  a 
quadruped,  and  quadruped 's  Latin  for  beast,  as  everybody 
that's  gone  through  the  grammar  knows,  or  else  where 's 
the  use  of  having  grammars  at  all?" 

"Where,  indeed!"  said  Nicholas,  abstractedly. 

13.  "  As  you  're  perfect  in  that,"  resumed  Squeers,  turn- 
ing to  the  boy,  "  go  and  look  after  my  horse,  and  rub  him 
down  well,  or  I  '11  rub  you  down.  The  rest  of  the  class  go 
and  draw  water  up  till  somebody  tells  you  to  leave  off,  for  it 's 
washing  day  to-morrow,  and  they  want  the  coppers  filled." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Fus'tian,  a  kind  of  cotton  stuff,  including 
corduroy,  velveteen,  etc.  2.  Re-solved',  made  clear,  disentangled. 
4.  De-form'i-ties,  misshapen  persons.  Stiint'ed,  checked  in  growth. 
Mea'ger,  thin,  lean.  5.  Gro-tesque'  {pro.  gro-tesk'),/ancz/M/,  absurd. 
Ad-mm'is-tered,  gave,  dispensed.  In-stall'ment  (literally,  part  of 
a  debt),  part,  portion.  Cor-po're-al,  bodily.  6.  Phys'iek-ing, 
doctoring,  treating  with  medicine.  7.  Dl-lut'ed,  weakened  by  the 
addition  of  water.  8.  Com-m6d'i-*y,  article,  wares.  Pro-found', 
intellectually  deep,  wise.  Ap-pre-hen'sion,  comprehension,  knowl- 
edge. 10.  Tem'po-ra-ry,  for  the  time  being.  11.  Dis-eon-cert'ed, 
confused,  abashed.  Sig-nif'i-cant-ly,  with  meaning.  12.  Ab-straet'- 
ed-ly,  in  an  absent-minded  way. 

NOTES.  —  1.  Mr.  Squeers  is  represented  as  an  ignorant,  brutal 
teacher,  many  of  whom  were  to  be  found  in  Yorkshire,  England, 
at  the  time  of  this  story. 

Nicholas  Nickleby  is  a  well-educated,  refined  young  man,  who 
has  just  obtained  the  position  of  assistant  teacher,  not  knowing 
Squeers's  true  character. 

6.  Smike  is  a  poor  scholar,  disowned  by  his  parents,  and  made 
almost  idiotic  by  harsh  treatment. 

The  novel  from  which  this  story  is  abridged,  aided  greatly  in 
a  much-needed  reform  in  the  Yorkshire  schools ;  and  the  character 
of  Squeers  was  so  true  to  life,  that  numerous  suits  were  threat- 
ened against  Mr.  Dickens  by  those  who  thought  themselves 
caricatured. 


262  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LXXIX.    THE  GIFT  OP   EMPTY  HANDS. 

Mrs.  S.  M.  B.  Piatt  (b.  1835, )  was  born  near  Lexington,  Ky, 

While  still  a  young  girl  she  began  to  write  poetry,  which  was  well  re- 
ceived. In  1861  she  was  married  to  the  poet  John  James  Piatt.  Mrs. 
Piatt's  poetry  is  marked  by  tender  pathos,  thoughtfulness,  and  musical 
flow  of  rhythm.  The  following  selection  is  from  "  That  New  World/' 

1.  THEY  were  two  princes  doomed  to  death; 
Each,  loved  his  beauty  and  his  breath: 
"Leave  us  our  life  and  we  will  bring 
Fair  gifts  unto  our  lord,  the  king." 

2.  They  went  together.     In  the  dew 
A  charmed  bird  before  them  flew. 
Through  sun  and  thorn  one  followed  it; 
Upon  the  other's  arm  it  lit. 

3.  A  rose,  whose  faintest  flush  was  worth 
All  buds  that  ever  blew  on  earth, 

One  climbed  the  rocks  to  reach;   ah,  well, 
Into  the  other's  breast  it  fell. 

4.  Weird  jewels,  such  as  fairies  wear, 
When  moons  go  out,  to  light  their  hair, 
One  tried  to  touch  on  ghostly  ground; 
Gems  of  quick  fire  the  other  found. 

5.  One  with  the  dragon  fought  to  gain 
The  enchanted  fruit,  and  fought  in  vain; 
The  other  breathed  the  garden's  air 
And  gathered  precious  apples  there. 

6.  Backward  to  the  imperial  gate 
One  took  his  fortune,  one  his  fate: 

One  showed  sweet  gifts  from  sweetest  lands, 
The  other,  torn  and  empty  hands. 


FIFTH    READER.  253 

7.  At  bird,  and  rose,  and  gem,  and  fruit, 
The  king  was  sad,  the  king  was  mute; 
At  last  he  slowly  said:  "My  son, 
True  treasure  is  not  lightly  won. 

8.  "Your  brother's  hands,  wherein  you  see 
Only  these  scars,  show  more  to  me 
Than  if  a  kingdom's  price  I  found 

In  place  of  each  forgotten  wound." 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Doomed,  destined,  condemned.  2.  Charmed, 
bewitched,  enchanted.  3.  Blew,  blossomed,  bloomed.  4.  Weird, 
tainted  with  witchcraft,  supernatural.  Quick,  alive,  living.  6.  Im- 
pe'ri-al,  royal.  7  Mute,  silent. 


LXXX.    CAPTURING  THE  WILD  HORSE. 

1.  WE  left  the  buffalo  camp  about  eight  o'clock,  and 
had  a  toilsome  and  harassing  march  of  two  hours,  over 
ridges  of  hills  covered  with  a  ragged  forest  of  scrub  oaks, 
and  broken  by  deep  gullies. 

2.  About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  came  to  where 
this  line  of  rugged  hills  swept  down  into  a  valley,  through 
which  flowed  the  north  fork  of  Red  River.     A  beautiful 
meadow,  about  half  a  mile  wide,  enameled  with  yellow, 
autumnal  flowers,  stretched  for  two  or  three  miles  along 
the  foot  of  the  hills,  bordered  on  the  opposite  side  by  the 
river,  whose  banks  were  fringed  with  cottonwood  trees,  the 
bright  foliage  of  which  refreshed  and  delighted  the  eye, 
after  being  wearied  by  the  contemplation  of  monotonous 
wastes  of  brown  forest. 

3.  The  meadow  was   finely   diversified  by   groves   and 
clumps  of  trees,  so  happily  dispersed  that  they  seemed  as 


254  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

if  set  out  by  the  hand  of  art.  As  we  cast  our  eyes  over 
this  fresh  and  delightful  valley,  we  beheld  a  troop  of  wild 
horses  quietly  grazing  on  a  green  lawn,  about  a  mile  dis- 
tant, to  our  right,  while  to  our  left,  at  nearly  the  same 
distance,  were  several  buffaloes;  some  feeding,  others  re- 
posing, and  ruminating  among  the  high,  neb  herbage, 
under  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  cottonwood  trees.  The 
whole  had  the  appearance  of  a  broad,  beautiful  tract  of 
pasture  land,  on  the  highly  ornamented  estate  of  some  gen- 
tleman farmer,  with  his  cattle  grazing  about  the  lawns  and 
meadows. 

4.  A  council  of  war  was  now  held,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  profit  by  the  present  favorable  opportunity,  and 
try  our  hand  at  the  grand  hunting  maneuver  which  is 
called  "ringing  the  wild  horse."      This  requires  a  large 
party  of  horsemen,  well  mounted.    They  extend  themselves 
in  each  direction,  at  a  certain  distance  apart,  and  gradu- 
ally form  a  ring  of  two  or  three  miles  in  circumference,  so 
as  to  surround  the  game.     This  must  be  done  with  extreme 
care,  for  the  wild  horse  is  the  most  readily  alarmed  inhab- 
itant of  the  prairie,  and  can  scent  a  hunter  a  great  distance, 
if  to  windward. 

5.  The  ring  being  formed,  two  or  three  ride  toward  the 
horses,  which  start  off  in  an  opposite  direction.     Whenever 
they  approach  the  bounds  of  the  ring,  however,  a  hunts- 
man presents  himself,  and  turns  them  from  their  course. 
In  this  way  they  are  checked,  and  driven  back  at  every 
point,   and  kept  galloping  round  and  round  this   magic 
circle,  until,  being  completely  tired  down,  it  is  easy  for 
hunters  to  ride  up  beside  them  and  throw  the  lariat  over 
their  heads.     The  prime  horses  of  the  most  speed,  courage, 
and  bottom,  however,  are  apt  to  break  through  and  escape, 
BO  that,  in  general,  it  is  the  second-rate  horses  that  are 
taken. 

6.  Preparations  were  now  made  for  a  nunt  of  this  kind. 
The  pack  horses  were  now  taken  into  the  woods  and  firmly 


FIFTH  READER.  255 

tied  to  trees,  lest  in  a  rush,  of  the  wild  horses  they  should 
break  away.  Twenty-five  men  were  then  sent  under  the 
command  of  a  lieutenant  to  steal  along  the  edge  of  the 
valley  within  the  strip  of  wood  that  skirted  the  hills. 
They  were  to  station  themselves  about  fifty  yards  apart, 
within  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  not  advance  or  show 
themselves  until  the  horses  dashed  in  that  direction. 
Twenty-five  men  were  sent  across  the  valley  to  steal  in 
like  manner  along  the  river  bank  that  bordered  the  oppo- 
site side,  and  to  station  themselves  among  the  trees. 

7.  A  third  party  of  about  the  same  number  was  to  form 
a  line,  stretching  across  the  lower  part  of  the  valley,  so  as 
to  connect  the  two  wings.     Beatte  and  our  other  half-breed, 
Antoine,  together  with  the  ever-officious  Tonish,  were  to 
make  a  circuit  through  the  woods  so  as  to  get  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  valley,  in  the  rear  of  the  horses,  and  drive 
them  forward  into  the  kind  of  sack  that  we  had  formed, 
while  the  two  wings  should  join  behind  them  and  make  a 
complete  circle. 

8.  The  flanking  parties  were  quietly  extending  them- 
selves  out  of  sight,  on  each  side  of  the  valley,  and  the  res- 
idue were  stretching  themselves  like  the  links  of  a  chain 
across  it,  when  the  wild  horses  gave  signs  that  they  scented 
an  enemy;  snuffing  the  air,  snorting,  and  looking  about. 
At  length  they  pranced  off  slowly  toward  the  river,  and 
disappeared  behind  a  green  bank. 

9.  Here,  had  the  regulations  of  the  chase  been  observed, 
they  would  have  been  quietly  checked  and  turned  back  by  the 
advance  of  a  hunter  from  among  the  trees.     Unluckily,  how. 
ever,  we  had  our  wildfire,  Jack-o'-lantern  little  Frenchman 
to  deal  with.     Instead  of  keeping  quietly  up  the  right  side 
of  the  valley,  to  get  above  the  horses,  the  moment  he  saw 
them  move  toward  the  river  he  broke  out  of  the  covert  of 
woods  and  dashed  furiously  across  the  plain  in  pursuit  of 
them.     This  put  an  end  to  all  system.     The  half-breeds, 
and  half  a  score  of  rangers,  joined  in  the  chase. 


256  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

10.  Away  they  all  went  over  the   green  bank.     In   a 
moment  or  two  the  wild  horses  reappeared,  and  came  thun- 
dering down  the  valley,  with  Frenchman,  half-breeds,  and 
rangers  galloping  and  bellowing  behind  them.     It  was  in 
vain  that  the  line  drawn  across  the  valley  attempted  to 
check  and  turn  back  the  fugitives;  they  were  too  hotly 
pressed  by  their  pursuers:    in  their   panic   they   dashed 
through  the  line,  and  clattered  down  the  plain. 

11.  The  whole  troop  joined  in  the  headlong  chase,  some 
of  the  rangers  without  hats  or  caps,  their  hair  flying  about 
their  ears,  and  others  with  handkerchiefs  tied  round  their 
beads.     The  buffaloes,  which  had  been  calmly  ruminating 
among  the  herbage,  heaved  up  their  huge  forms,  gazed  for 
a  moment  at  the  tempest  that  came  scouring  down  the 
meadow,  then  turned  and  took  to  heavy,  rolling  flight. 
They  were  soon  overtaken;  the  promiscuous  throng  were 
pressed  together  by  the  contracting  sides   of  the  valley, 
and  away  they  went,  pellmell,  hurry-skurry,  wild  buffalo, 
wild  horse,  wild  huntsman,  with   clang  and   clatter,  and 
whoop  and  halloo,  that  made  the  forests  ring. 

12.  At  length  the  buffaloes  turned  into  a  green  brake, 
on  the  river  bank,  while  the  horses  dashed  up  a  narrow 
defile  of  the  hills,  with  their  pursuers  close  to  their  heels. 
Beatte  passed  several  of  them,  having  fixed  his  eye  upon  a 
fine  Pawnee  horse  that  had  his  ears  slit  and  saddle  marks 
upon  his  back.     He  pressed  him  gallantly,  but  lost  him  in 
the  woods. 

13.  Among  the  wild  horses  was  a  fine  black  mare,  which 
in  scrambling  up  the  defile  tripped  and  fell.     A  young 
ranger  sprang  from  his  horse  and  seized  her  by  the  mane 
and  muzzle.     Another  ranger  dismounted  and  came  to  his 
assistance.     The  mare  struggled  fiercely,  kicking  and  bit- 
ing, and  striking  with  her  fore  feet,  but  a  noose  was  slipped 
over  her  head,  and  her  struggles  were  in  vain. 

14.  It  was  some  time,  however,  before  she  gave  over 
rearing  and  plunging,  and  lashing  out  with  her  feet  on 


FIFTH   READER.  257 

every  side.  The  two  rangers  then  led  her  along  the  valley, 
by  two  strong  lariats,  which  enabled  them  to  keep  at  a 
sufficient  distance  on  each  side  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of 
her  hoofs,  and  whenever  she  struck  out  in  one  direction 
she  was  jerked  in  the  other.  In  this  way  her  spirit  was 
gradually  subdued. 

15.  As  to  Tonish,  who  had  marred  the  whole  scene  by 
his  precipitancy,  he  had  been  more  successful  than  he  de- 
served, having  managed  to  catch  a  beautiful  cream-colored 
colt  about  seven  months  old,  that  had  not  strength  to  keep 
up  with  its  companions.     The  mercurial  little  Frenchman 
was  beside  himself  with  exultation.     It  was  amusing  to 
see  him  with  his  prize.     The  colt  would  rear  and  kick,  and 
struggle  to  get  free,  when  Tonish  would  take  him  about  the 
neck,  wrestle  with  him,  jump  on  his  back,  and  cut  as  many 
antics  as  a  monkey  with  a  kitten. 

16.  Nothing  surprised  me  more,  however,  than  to  witness 
how  soon  these  poor  animals,  thus  taken  from   the  un- 
bounded freedom  of  the  prairie,  yielded  to  the  dominion  of 
man.     In  the  course  of  two  or  three  days  the  mare  and 
colt  went  with  the  led  horses  and  became  quite  docile. 

—  Washington  Irving. 


DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Giil'lies,  hollows  in  the  earth  worn  by  water. 
Di-ver'si-fied,  distinguished  by  numerous  aspects,  varied.  3.  Ru'* 
mi-nat-ing,  chewing  over  what  has  been  slightly  chewed  before. 
Herb'age  (pro.  erb'aj),  pasture,  grass.  4.  Prai'rie,  an  extensive, 
level  tract  without  trees,  but  covered  with  tall  grass.  Wind'ward, 
the  point  from  which  the  wind  blows.  5.  Lar'i-at,  a  long  cord  or 
thong  of  leather,  with  a  noose,  for  catching  wild  horses.  Bot'tom, 
power  of  endurance.  8.  Flank'ing,  overlooking  or  commanding 
on  the  side.  9.  Jack-o'-lan'tern,  a  light  seen  in  low,  moist  grounds, 
which  disappears  when  approached.  9.  Cov'ert,  a  covering  place,  a 
shelter.  10.  P&n'ie,  sudden  fright  (usually,  causeless  fright).  11.  Pro- 
mis'eu-oiis,  mingled,  confused.  15.  Marred,  interrupted)  spoiled. 
Mer-eu'ri-al,  sprightly,  full  ofjire. 


258  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LXXXI.    SOWING  AND   REAPING. 

Adelaide  Anne  Procter  (6. 1825,  d.  1864)  was  the  daughter  of  Bryan 
Waller  Procter  (better  known  as  "  Barry  Cornwall "),  a  celebrated  English 
poet,  living  in  London.  Miss  Procter's  first  volume,  "  Legends  and 
Lyrics,"  appeared  in  1858,  and  met  with  great  success ;  it  was  republished 
in  this  country.  A  second  series,  under  the  same  name,  was  published  in 
1860;  and  in  1862  both  series  were  republished  with  additional  poems, 
and  an  introduction  by  Charles  Dickens.  In  1861  Miss  Procter  edited 
"  Victoria  Regia,"  a  collection  of  poetical  pieces,  to  which  she  contributed ; 
and  in  1862  "A  Chaplet  of  Verses,"  composed  of  her  own  poems,  was 
published.  Besides  these  volumes,  she  contributed  largely  to  various 
magazines  and  periodicals. 


1.  Sow  with  a  generous  hand; 

Pause  not  for  toil  and  pain; 
Weary  not  through  the  heat  of  summer, 

Weary  not  through  the  cold  spring  rain; 
But  wait  till  the  autumn  comes 

For  the  sheaves  of  golden  grain. 

2.  Scatter  the  seed,  and  fear  not, 

A  table  will  be  spread; 
What  matter  if  you  are  too  weary 

To  eat  your  hard-earned  bread; 
Sow,  while  the  earth  is  broken, 

For  the  hungry  must  be  fed. 

3.  Sow; — while  the  seeds  are  lying 

In  the  warm  earth's  bosom  deep, 
And  your  warm  tears  fall  upon  it  — 

They  will  stir  in  their  quiet  sleep, 
And  the  green  blades  rise  the  quicker, 

Perchance,  for  the  tears  you  weep. 

4.  Then  sow;  —  for  the  hours  are  fleeting, 

And  the  seed  must  fall  to-day; 


FIFTH   READER.  259 

And  care  not  what  hand  shall  reap  it, 

Or  if  you  shall  have  passed  away 
Before  the  waving  cornfields 

Shall  gladden  the  sunny  day. 

5.   Sow ;  —  and  look  onward,  upward, 

Where  the  starry  light  appears,— 
Where,  in  spite  of  the  coward's  doubting, 

Or  your  own  heart's  trembling  fears, 
You  shall  reap  in  joy  the  harvest 

You  have  sown  to-day  in  tears. 


LXXXII.    TAKING  COMPORT. 

1.  FOR  the  last  few  days,  the  fine  weather  has  led  me 
away  from  books  and  papers,  and  the  close  air  of  dwell- 
ings, into  the  open  fields,  and  under  the   soft,  warm  sun- 
shine, and  the  softer  light  of  a  full  moon.     The  loveliest 
season  of  the  whole  year  —  that  transient  but  delightful 
interval  between  the  storms  of  the  "  wild  equinox,  with  all 
their  wet,"  and  the  dark,  short,  dismal  days  which  precede 
the  rigor  of  winter  —  is  now  with  us.     The  sun  rises  through 
a  soft  and  hazy  atmosphere;  the  light  mist  clouds  melt 
gradually  before  him;   and  his  noontide  light  rests  warm 
and  clear  on  still  woods,  tranquil  waters,  and  grasses  green 
with  the  late  autumnal  rains. 

2.  One  fine  morning,  not  long  ago,  I  strolled  down  the 
Merrimac,  on  the  Tewksbury  shore.     I  know  of  no  walk 
in  the  vicinity  of  Lowell   so  inviting  as   that  along  the 
margin  of  the  river,  for  nearly  a  mile  from  the  village  of 
Belvidere.     The  path  winds,  green  and  flower-skirted,  among 
beeches  and  oaks,  through  whose  boughs  you  catch  glimpses 


260  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

of  waters  sparkling  and  dashing  below.  Bocks,  huge  and 
picturesque,  jut  out  into  the  stream,  affording  beautiful 
views  of  the  river  and  the  distant  city. 

3.  Half  fatigued  with  my  walk,  I  threw  myself  down 
upon  a  rocky  slope  of  the  bank,  where  the  panorama  of 
earth,   sky,   and  water  lay  clear  and  distinct  about  me. 
Far  above,  silent  and  dim  as  a  picture,  was  the  city,  with 
its  huge  mill  masonry,  confused  chimney  tops,  and  church 
spires;    near  it  rose   the  height    of    Belvidere,   with  its 
deserted  burial  place   and  neglected  gravestones   sharply 
denned  on  its  bleak,  bare  summit  against  the  sky ;  before 
me  the  river  went  dashing  down  its  rugged  channel,  send- 
ing up  its  everlasting  murmur;   above  me  the  birch  tree 
hung  its  tassels;  and  the  last  wild  flowers  of  autumn  pro- 
fusely fringed  the  rocky  rim  of  the  water. 

4.  Eight  opposite,  the  Dracut  woods  stretched  upwards 
from  the  shore,  beautiful  with  the  hues  of  frost,  glowing 
with  tints  richer  and  deeper  than  those  which  Claude  or 
Poussin  mingled,  as  if  the  rainbows  of  a  summer  shower 
had  fallen  among  them.     At  a  little  distance  to  the  right, 
a  group  of  cattle  stood  mid-leg  deep  in  the  river;   and  a 
troop  of  children,  bright-eyed  and  mirthful,  were  casting 
pebbles  at  them  from  a  projecting  shelf  of  rock.     Over  all 
a  warm  but  softened  sunshine  melted  down  from  a  slum- 
berous autumnal  sky. 

5.  My  reverie  was  disagreeably  broken.     A  low,  grunting 
sound,  half  bestial,  half  human,  attracted  my  attention.     I 
was  not  alone.     Close  beside  me,  half  hidden  by  a  tuft  of 
bushes,  lay  a  human  being,  stretched  out  at  full   length, 
with  his  face  literally  rooted  into  the  gravel.     A  little  boy, 
five  or  six  years  of  age,  clean  and  healthful,  with  his  fair 
brown  locks  and  blue  eyes,  stood  on  the  bank  above,  gazing 
down  upon  him  with  an  expression  of  childhood's  simple 
and  unaffected  pity. 

6.  "  What  ails  you  ?  "  asked  the  boy  at  length.     "  What 
makes  you  lie  there  ?  " 


FIFTH   READER.  261 

The  prostrate  groveler  struggled  halfway  up,  exhibiting 
the  bloated  and  filthy  countenance  of  a  drunkard.  He 
made  two  or  three  efforts  to  get  upon  his  feet,  lost  his 
balance,  and  tumbled  forward  upon  Ms  face. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  inquired  the  boy. 

"  I  'm  taking  comfort,"  he  muttered,  with  his  mouth  in 
the  dirt. 

7.  Taking  his  comfort!  There  he  lay,  —  squalid  and 
loathsome  under  the  bright  heaven,  —  an  imbruted  man. 
The  holy  harmonies  of  Nature,  the  sounds  of  gushing 
waters,  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  above  him,  the  wild  flowers, 
the  frost  bloom  of  the  woods,  —  what  were  they  to  him  ? 
Insensible,  deaf,  and  blind,  in  the  stupor  of  a  living  death, 
he  lay  there,  literally  realizing  that  most  bitterly  significant 
eastern  malediction,  "  May  you  eat  dirt." 

—  Whittier. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Tran'sient  (pro.  tran'shent),  of  short  duration. 
E'qui-nox,  the  time  of  year  when  the  days  and  nights  are  of  equal 
length,  i.e.,  about  September  23c?  or  March  21st.  Rig'or,  severity. 
2.  Pie-tnr-esque'  (pro.  pik-tur-esk'),  fitted  to  form  a  pleasing  pic- 
ture. 3.  Pau-o-ra'ma,  a  complete  or  entire  view  in  every  direction. 
5.  ReVer-ie,  an  irregular  train  of  thoughts  occurring  in  meditation. 
Bes'tial  (pro.  bes'chal),  brutish.  Lit'er-al-ly,  according  to  the  first 
and  natural  meaning  of  words.  6.  Pros'trate,  lying  at  length. 
Grov'el-er,  a  base  wretch.  Bloat'ed,  puffed  out.  7.  Im-brut'ed, 
reduced  to  brutality.  Har'mo-ny,  the  fitness  of  parts  to  each  other  in 
any  combination  of  things.  Re'al-iz-ing,  making  one's  own  in  experi- 
ence. Mal-e-die'tion,  a  curse. 

NOTES.  —  The  localities  named  in  this  selection  are  in  the 
vicinity  of  Haverhill,  Mass.,  where  the  old  Whittier  homestead 
is  situated. 

4.  Claude  Lorrain  (b.  1600,  d.  1682),  whose  proper  name  was 
Claude  Gelee,  was  a  celebrated  landscape  painter,  born  in  Cham- 
pagne, Vosges,  France. 

Nicolas  Poussin  (b.  1594,  d.  1665)  was  a  French  painter,  who 
became  one  of  the  most  remarkable  artists  of  his  age.  His  fame 
chiefly  arises  from  his  historical  and  mythological  paintings. 


262  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


LXXXIII.    CALLING  THE  ROLL. 

1.  " CORPORAL  GREEN!"  the  orderly  cried; 

"  Here ! "  was  the  answer,  loud  and  clear, 

From  the  lips  of  a  soldier  standing  near; 
And  "  here ! "  was  the  word  the  next  replied. 
"  Cyrus  Drew ! "  and  a  silence  fell ; 

This  time  no  answer  followed  the  call; 

Only  his  rear  man  saw  him  fall, 
Killed  or  wounded  he  could  not  tell. 

2.  There  they  stood  in  the  fading  light, 

These  men  of  battle,  with  grave,  dark  looks, 

As  plain  to  be  read  as  open  books, 
While  slowly  gathered  the  shades  of  night. 
The  fern  on  the  slope  was  splashed  with  blood, 

And  down  in  the  corn,  where  the  poppies  grew, 

Were  redder  stains  than  the  poppies  knew; 
And  crimson-dyed  was  the  river's  flood. 

3.  For  the  foe  had  crossed  from  the  other  side, 

That  day,  in  the  face  of  a  murderous  fire 
That  swept  them  down  in  its  terrible  ire; 

And  their  lifeblood  went  to  color  the  tide. 

"  Herbert  Cline !  "     At  the  call  there  came 
Two  stalwart  soldiers  into  the  line, 
Bearing  between  them  Herbert  Cline, 

Wounded  and  bleeding,  to  answer  his  name. 

4  "Ezra  Kerr!"  and  a  voice  said  "here!" 
"  Hiram  Kerr !  "  but  no  man  replied : 
They  were  brothers,  these  two ;  the  sad  wind  sighed, 
And  a  shudder  crept  through  the  cornfield  near. 


FIFTH    READER.  263 

"  Ephraim  Deane ! "  —  then  a  soldier  spoke : 
"Deane  carried  our  regiment's  colors,"  he  said, 
"When  our  ensign  was  shot;   I  left  him  dead, 

Just  after  the  enemy  wavered  and  broke. 

5.   "Close  to  the  roadside  his  body  lies; 

I  paused  a  moment  and  gave  him  to  drink; 

He  murmured  his  mother's  name,  I  think; 
And  death  came  with  it  and  closed  his  eyes." 
?T  was  a  victory  —  yes ;   but  it  cost  us  dear ; 

For  that  company's  roll,  when  called  at  night, 

Of  a  hundred  men  who  went  into  the  fight, 
Numbered  but  twenty  that  answered  "  here ! " 

—  Shepherd. 


LXXXIV.    TURTLE  SOUP. 

Charles  Frederick  Briggs  (6.  1804,  d.  1877)  was  born  on  the  island 
of  Nantucket.  When  quite  young,  however,  he  became  a  resident  of  New 
York  City.  In  1845,  in  conjunction  with  Edgar  A.  Poe,  he  began  the 
publication  of  the  "Broadway  Journal;"  he  was  also  connected  with 
the  "  New  York  Times,"  and  the  "  Evening  Mirror; "  also  as  editor  from 
1853  to  1856  with  "  Putnam's  Magazine."  Mr.  Briggs  wrote  a  few  novels, 
some  poetry,  and  numerous  little  humorous  tales  and  sketches.  The 
following  selection  is  from  "Working  a  Passage;  or,  Life  on  a  Liner," 
one  of  his  best  stories. 

1.  AMONG  the  luxuries  which  the  captain  had  provided 
for  himself  and  passengers  was  a  fine  green  turtle,  which 
was  not  likely  to  suffer  from  exposure  to  salt  water,  so  it 
was  reserved  until  all  the  pigs,  and  sheep,  and  poultry  had 
been  eaten.     A  few  days  before  we  arrived,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  kill  the  turtle  and  have  a  feast  the  next  day. 

2.  Our  cabin  gentlemen  had  been  long  enough  deprived 
of  fresh  meats  to  make  them  cast  lickerish  glances  towards 
their  hard-skinned  friend,  and  there  was  a  great  smacking 
of  lips  the  day  before  he  was  killed.     As  I  walked  aft 


264 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


occasionally,  I  heard  them  congratulat- 
ing themselves  on  their  prospective  tur- 
tle soup  and  forcemeat  balls ;  and  one  of 
them,  to  heighten  the  luxury 
of  the  feast,  ate  nothing  but 
a  dry  biscuit  for  the  twenty- 
four  hours  preceding,  that  he 
might  be  prepared 
to  devour  his  full 
share  of  the  unctu- 
ous compound. 


3.  It  was  to  be  a  gala  day  with  them;  and  though  it 
was  not  champagne  day,  that  falling  on  Saturday  and  this 
on  Friday,  they  agreed  to  have  champagne  a  day  in  ad- 
vance, that  nothing  should  be  wanting  to  give  a  fini  sh  to 


FIFTH    READER.  265 

their  turtle.  It  happened  to  be  a  rougher  day  than  usual 
when  the  turtle  was  cooked,  but  they  had  become  too  well 
used  to  the  motion  of  the  ship  to  mind  that. 

4.  It  happened  to  be  my  turn  at  the  wheel  the  hour  be- 
fore dinner,  and  I  had  the  tantalizing  misery  of  hearing 
them  laughing  and  talking  about  their  turtle,  while  I  was 
hungry  from  want  of  dry  bread  and  salt  meat.     I  had  res- 
olutely kept  my  thoughts  from  the  cabin  during  all  the 
passage  but  once,  and  now  I  found  my  ideas  clustering 
round  a  tureen  of  turtle  in  spite  of  all  my  philosophy. 

5.  Confound  them,  if  they  had  gone  out  of  my  hearing 
with  their  exulting  smacks,  I  should  not  have  envied  their 
soup,  but  their  hungry  glee  so  excited  my  imagination  that 
I  could  see  nothing  through  the  glazing  of  the  binnacle 
but  a  white  plate  with  a  slice  of  lemon  on  the  rim,  a  loaf 
of  delicate  bread,  a  silver  spoon,  a  napkin,  two  or  three 
wine   glasses   of  different  hues   and  shapes,  and  a  water 
gobiet  clustering  round  it,  and  a  stream  of  black,  thick, 
and  fragrant  turtle  pouring  into  the  plate. 

6.  By  and  by  it  was  four  bells:   they  dined  at  three. 
And  all  the   gentlemen,  with  the  captain  at  their  head, 
darted  below  into  the  cabin,  where  their  mirth  increased 
when  they  caught  sight  of  the  soup  plates.     "  Hurry  with 
the   soup,  steward,"  roared  the   captain.      "Coming,  sir," 
replied  the  steward.     In  a  few  moments  the  cook  opened 
the  door  of  his  galley,  and  out  came  the  delicious  steam 
of  the  turtle. 

7.  Then  came  the  steward  with  a  large  covered  tureen 
in  his  hand,  towards  the  cabin  gangway.     I  forgot  the  ship 
for  a  moment  in  looking  at  this  precious  cargo,  the  wheel 
slipped  from  my  hands,  the  ship  broached  to  with  a  sudden 
jerk;   the  steward  had  got  only  one  foot  upon  the  stairs, 
when  this  unexpected  motion  threw  him  off  his  balance, 
and  down  he  went  by  the  run,  the  tureen  slipped  from  his 
hands,  and  part  of  its  contents  flew  into  the  lee  scuppers, 
and  the  balance  followed  him  in  his  fall. 


266  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

8.  I  laughed  outright.  I  enjoyed  the  turtle  a  thousand 
times  more  than  I  should  have  done  if  I  had  eaten  the  whole 
of  it.  But  I  was  forced  to  restrain  my  mirth,  for  the  next 
moment  the  steward  ran  upon  deck,  followed  by  the  cap- 
tain, in  a  furious  rage,  threatening  if  he  caught  him  to 
throw  him  overboard.  Not  a  spoonful  of  the  soup  had 
been  left  in  the  coppers,  for  the  steward  had  taken  it  all 
away  at  once  to  keep  it  warm.  In  about  an  hour  after- 
wards the  passengers  came  upon  deck,  looking  more  sober 
than  I  had  seen  them  since  we  left  Liverpool.  They  had 
dined  upon  cold  ham. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Re-§erved',  kept  back,  retained.  2.  Lick'er- 
ish,  eager  or  greedy  to  swallow.  Aft,  toward  the  stern  of  a  vessel. 
Pro-spec' tive,  relating  to  the  future.  Fo^e'meat,  meat  chopped  fine 
and  highly  seasoned.  Une'tu-oiis,  fat.  5.  Glaz'ing,  glass  or  glass- 
like  substance.  Bm'na-ele,  a  box  containing  the  compass  of  a  ship. 
6.  Gal'ley,  the  kitchen  of  a  ship.  7.  Tu-reen',  a  large  deep  vessel 
for  holding  soup.  Gang'way,  a  passageway.  Lee,  pertaining  to 
the  side  opposite  that  against  which  the  wind  blows.  Seiip'pers,  chan- 
nels cut  through  the  side  of  a  ship  for  carrying  off  water  from  the  deck. 
8.  Cop'pers,  large  copper  boilers. 

NOTE.  —  6.  Four  bells;  i.e.,  two  o'clock. 


LXXXV.    THE  BEST  KIND  OP  REVENGE. 

1.  SOME  years  ago  a  warehouseman  in  Manchester,  Eng- 
land, published  a  scurrilous  pamphlet,  in  which  he  endeav- 
ored to  hold  up  the  house  of  Grant  Brothers  to  ridicule. 
William  Grant  remarked  upon  the  occurrence  that  the  man 
would  live  to  repent  of  what  he  had  done;  and  this  was 
conveyed  by  some  talebearer  to  the  libeler,  who  said,  "  Oh, 
I  suppose  he  thinks  I  shall  some  time  or  other  be  in  his 
debt;  but  I  will  take  good  care  of  that."  It  happens, 


FIFTH   READER.  267 

however,  that  a  man  in  business  can  not  always  choose 
who  shall  be  his  creditors.  The  pamphleteer  became  a 
bankrupt,  and  the  brothers  held  an  acceptance  of  his 
which  had  been  indorsed  to  them  by  the  drawer,  who  had 
also  become  a  bankrupt. 

2.  The  wantonly  libeled  men  had  thus  become  creditors 
of  the  libeler !     They  now  had  it  in  their  power  to  make 
him  repent  of  his  audacity.     He  could  not  obtain  his  cer- 
tificate without  their  signature,  and  without  it  he  could  not 
enter  into  business  again.     He  had  obtained  the  number 
of  signatures  required  by  the  bankrupt  law  except  one.     It 
seemed  folly  to  hope  that  the  firm,  of  "  the  brothers  "  would 
supply  the  deficiency.    What !  they  who  had  cruelly  been 
made  the  laughingstock  of  the  public,  forget  the  wrong  and 
favor  the  wrongdoer  ?     He  despaired.     But  the  claims  of  a 
wife  and  children  forced  him  at  last  to  make  the  applica- 
tion.     Humbled  by  misery,  he  presented  himself  at  the 
countinghouse  of  the  wronged. 

3.  Mr.   William   Grant  was  there  alone,  and  his  first 
words  to    the  delinquent  were,   "  Shut    the    door,   sir ! " 
sternly  uttered.     The  door  was  shut,  and  the  libeler  stood 
trembling  before  the  libeled.      He  told  his  tale  and  pro- 
duced his  certificate,  which  was  instantly  clutched  by  the 
injured  merchant.      "  You  wrote  a  pamphlet  against  us 
once!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Grant.     The  suppliant  expected  to 
see  his  parchment  thrown  into  the  fire.     But  this  was  not 
its  destination.     Mr,  Grant  took  a  pen,  and  writing  some- 
thing upon  the  document,  handed  it  back  to  the  bankrupt. 
He,    poor    wretch,    expected    to    see    "rogue,    scoundrel, 
libeler,"  inscribed ;  but  there  was,  in  fair  round  characters, 
the  signature  of  the  firm. 

4.  "We  make  it  a  rule,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  "never  to  re- 
fuse signing  the  certificate  of  an  honest  tradesman,  and  we 
have  never  heard  that  you  were   anything  else."      The 
tears  started  into  the  poor  man's  eyes.      "Ah,"  said  Mr. 
Grant,  "my  saying  was  true!     I  said  you  would  live  to 


268  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

repent  writing  that  pamphlet.  I  did  not  mean  it  as  a 
threat.  I  only  meant  that  some  day  you  would  know  us 
better,  and  be  sorry  you  had  tried  to  injure  us.  I  see  you 
repent  of  it  now."  "  I  do,  I  do ! "  said  the  grateful  man ; 
"  I  bitterly  repent  it."  "  Well,  well,  my  dear  fellow,  you 
know  us  now.  How  do  you  get  on  ?  What  are  you  going 
to  do  ? "  The  poor  man  stated  he  had  friends  who  could 
assist  him  when  his  certificate  was  obtained.  "But  how 
are  you  off  in  the  meantime  ?  " 

5.  And  the  answer  was,  that,  having  given  up  every 
farthing  to  his  creditors,  he  had  been  compelled  to  stint 
his  family  of  even  common  necessaries,  that  he  might  be 
enabled  to  pay  the  cost  of  his  certificate.  "My  dear 
fellow,  this  will  not  do ;  your  family  must  not  suffer.  Be 
kind  enough  to  take  this  ten-pound  note  to  your  wife  from 
me.  There,  there,  my  dear  fellow!  Nay,  do  not  cry;  it 
will  all  be  well  with  you  yet.  Keep  up  your  spirits,  set  to 
work  like  a  man,  and  you  will  raise  your  head  among  us 
yet."  The  overpowered  man  endeavored  in  vain  to  express 
his  thanks ;  the  swelling  in  his  throat  forbade  words.  He 
put  his  handkerchief  to  his  face  and  went  out  of  the  door, 
crying  like  a  child. 

DEFINITIONS. —  1.  Ware'house-man  (English  usage),  one  who 
keeps  a  wholesale  store  for  woolen  goods.  Seur'ril-oiis,  low,  mean. 
Li'bel-er,  one  who  defames  another  maliciously  by  a  writing,  etc 
2.  Au-da9'i-ty,  bold  impudence.  Sig'na-ture,  the  name  of  a  person 
written  with  his  own  hand,  the  name  of  a  Jirm  signed  officially.  De- 
fi'cien-cy,  want.  3.  De-lin'quent,  an  offender.  Parch'ment,  sheep 
or  goat  skin  prepared  for  writing  upon.  5.  Stint,  to  limit. 

NOTE.  —  1.  Acceptance.  When  a  person  upon  whom  a  draft  has 
been  made,  writes  his  name  across  the  face  of  it,  the  draft  then 
becomes  "an  acceptance."  The  person  who  makes  the  draft  is 
called  "  the  drawer ; "  the  person  to  whom  the  money  is  ordered 
paid  writes  his  name  on  the  back  of  the  draft  and  is  called  "  an 
indorser."  Paper  of  this  kind  frequently  passes  from  hand  to 
hand,  so  that  there  are  several  indorsers. 


FIFTH    READER.  269 


LXXXVI.    THE  SOLDIER  OF  THE  RHINE. 

Caroline  Elizabeth  Sarah  Norton  (&.  1808,  d.  1877)  was  the  grand- 
daughter of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  She  wrote  verses  and  plays 
at  a  very  early  age.  "  The  Sorrows  of  Rosalie,"  published  in  1829,  was 
written  before  she  was  seventeen  years  old.  In  1827,  she  was  married 
to  the  Hon.  George  Chappie  Norton.  The  marriage  was  an  unhappy 
one,  and  they  were  divorced  in  1836.  Her  principal  works  are  "The 
Undying  One,"  "The  Dream,  and  Other  Poems,"  "The  Child  of  the 
Islands,"  "Stuart  of  Dunleith,  a  Romance,"  and  "English  Laws  for 
English  Women  of  the  19th  Century."  She  contributed  extensively  to 
the  magazines  and  other  periodicals. 

1.  A  SOLDIER  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers, 

There  was  lack   of  woman's  nursing,  there   was  dearth  of 

woman's  tears ; 
But  a  comrade  stood  beside  him,  while  his  lifeblood  ebbed 

away, 

And  bent,  with  pitying  glances,  to  hear  what  he  might  say. 
The  dying  soldier  faltered,  as  he  took  that  comrade's  hand, 
And  he  said  :  "  I  nevermore  shall  see  my  own,  my  native  land ; 
Take  a  message  and  a  token  to  some  distant  friends  of  mine, 
For  I  was  born  at  Bingen,  —  at  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

2.  "  Tell  my  brothers  and  companions,  when  they  meet  and  crowd 

around 

To  hear  my  mournful  story  in  the  pleasant  vineyard  ground, 
That  we  fought  the  battle  bravely,  and  when  the  day  was  done, 
Full  many  a  corse  lay  ghastly  pale  beneath  the  setting  sun ; 
And,  'mid  the  dead  and  dying,  were  some  grown  old  in  wars, — 
The  death  wound  on  their  gallant  breasts,  the  last  of  many 

scars ; 

But  some  were  young,  and  suddenly  beheld  life's  morn  de- 
cline, — 
And  one  had  come  from  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

3.  "  Tell  my  mother  that  her  other  sons  shall  comfort  her  old  age, 
For  I  was  aye  a  truant  bird,  that  thought  his  home  a  cage. 
For  my  father  was  a  soldier,  and,  even  when  a  child, 

My  heart  leaped  forth  to  hear  him  tell  of  struggles  fierce  and 
wild; 


270  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

And  when  he  died,  and  left  us  to  divide  his  scanty  hoard, 

I  let  them  take  whate'er  they  would,  but   kept   my   father's 

sword ; 
And  with  boyish  love  I  hung  it  where  the  bright  light  used 

to  shine, 
On  the  cottage  wall  at  Bingen,  —  calm  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

4.  "Tell  my  sister  not  to  weep  for  me,  and  sob  with  drooping 

head, 
When  the  troops  come  marching  home  again,  with  glad  and 

gallant  tread, 

But  to  look  upon  them  proudly,  with  a  calm  and  steadfast  eye, 
For  her  brother  was  a  soldier,  too,  and  not  afraid  to  die ; 
And  if  a  comrade  seek  her  love,  I  ask  her  in  my  name 
To  listen  to  him  kindly,  without  regret  or  shame, 
And  to  hang  the  old  sword  in  its  place  (my  father's  sword 

and  mine), 
For  the  honor  of  old  Bingen,  —  dear  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

5.  "  There 's  another, — not  a  sister ;  in  the  happy  days  gone  by, 
You  'd  have  known  her  by  the  merriment  that  sparkled  in  her 

eye; 
Too  innocent  for  coquetry,  —  too  fond  for  idle  scorning,  — 

0  friend !  I  fear  the  lightest  heart  makes  sometimes  heaviest 

mourning ! 

Tell  her  the  last  night  of  my  life  —  (for,  ere  the  moon  be  risen, 
My  body  will  be  out  of  pain,  my  soul  be  out  of  prison), 

1  dreamed  I  stood  with  her,  and  saw  the  yellow  sunlight  shine 
On  the  vine-clad  hills  of  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

6.  "I  saw  the  blue  Rhine  sweep  along :  I  heard,  or  seemed  to  hear, 
The  German  songs  we  used  to  sing,  in  chorus  sweet  and  clear; 
And  down  the  pleasant  river,  and  up  the  slanting  hill, 

The  echoing  chorus  sounded,  through  the  evening  calm  and 

still; 
And  her  glad  blue  eyes  were  on   me,  as  we  passed,  with 

friendly  talk, 
Down   many  a  path   beloved  of  yore,  and   well-remembered 

walk; 


FIFTH   BEADER.  271 

And  her  little  hand  lay  lightly,  confidingly  in  mine,  — 
But  we  '11  meet  no  more  at  Bingen,  —  loved  Bingen  on  the 
Rhine." 

7.   His  trembling  voice  grew  faint  and  hoarse;   his  grasp  was 

childish  weak, 

His  eyes  put  on  a  dying  look,  —  he  sighed  and  ceased  to  speak. 
His  comrade  bent  to  lift  him,  but  the  spark  of  life  had  fled,  — 
The  soldier  of  the  Legion  in  a  foreign  land  was  dead ! 
And  the  soft  moon  rose  up  slowly,  and  calmly  she  looked  down 
On  the  red  sand  of  the  battlefield,  with  bloody  corses  strewn ; 
Yes,  calmly  on  that  dreadful  scene,  her  pale  light  seemed  to 

shine, 
As  it  shone  on  distant  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Le'gion  (pro.  le'jun),  division  of  an  army. 
Dearth  (pro.  derth),  scarcity.  Ebbed,  flowed  out.  2.  Corse,  a 
dead  body.  4.  Stead'fast,  Jirm,  resolute.  5.  Co-quet'ry,  trifling  in 
love.  6.  ChO'rus,  music  in  which  all  join.  Yore,  old  times. 

NOTE.  —  1.  Bingen  is  pronounced  Bing/en,  not  Bin/gen,  nor 
Bln'jen. 


LXXXVII.    THE  WINGED  WORSHIPERS. 

Charles  Sprague  (6.  1791,  d.  1875)  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.  He 
engaged  in  mercantile  business  when  quite  young,  leaving  school  for 
that  purpose.  In  1825,  he  was  elected  cashier  of  the  Globe  Bank  of  Bos- 
ton, which  position  he  held  until  1864.  Mr.  Sprague  has  not  been  a 
prolific  writer;  but  his  poems,  though  few  in  number,  are  deservedly 
classed  among  the  best  productions  of  American  poets.  His  chief  poem 
is  entitled  "Curiosity." 

1.       GAY,  guiltless  pair, 

What  seek  ye  from  the  fields  of  heaven? 

Ye  have  no  need  of  prayer, 
Ye  have  no  sins  to  be  forgiven. 


272  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Why  perch  ye  here, 

Where  mortals  to  their  Maker  bend  ? 

Can  your  pure  spirits  fear 
The  God  ye  never  could  offend? 

3.  Ye  never  knew 

The  crimes  for  which  we  come  to  weep; 

Penance  is  not  for  you, 
Blessed  wanderers  of  the  upper  deep. 

4.  To  you  'tis  given 

To  wake  sweet  Nature's  untaught  lays; 

Beneath  the  arch  of  heaven 
To  chirp  away  a  life  of  praise. 

5.  Then  spread  each  wing, 

Far,  far  above,  o'er  lakes  and  lands, 

And  join  the  choirs  that  sing 
In  yon  blue  dome  not  reared  with  hands, 

6.  Or,  if  ye  stay 

To  note  the  consecrated  hour, 

Teach  me  the  airy  way, 
And  let  me  try  your  envied  power. 

7.  Above  the  crowd, 

On  upward  wings  could  I  but  fly, 

I'd  bathe  in  yon  bright  cloud, 
And  seek  the  stars  that  gem  the  sky. 

8.  'Twere  Heaven  indeed, 

Through  fields  of  trackless  light  to  soar, 

On  Nature's  charms  to  feed, 
And  Nature's  own  great  God  adore. 


FIFTH    READER.  273 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Perch,  to  light  or  settle  on  anything.  3.  Pen'- 
an9e,  suffering  for  sin.  4.  Lays,  songs.  5.  Choir  (pro.  kwlr),  a  col- 
lection of  singers.  Dome,  an  arched  structure  above  a  roof;  hence, 
figuratively,  the  heavens.  6.  C6n'se-erat-ed,  set  apart  for  the  service 
of  God.  8.  Track'less,  having  no  path. 

NOTE.  —  This  little  poem  was  addressed  to  two  swallows  that 
flew  into  church  during  service. 


LXXXVIII.    THE  PEEVISH  WIPE. 

Maria  Edge  worth  (6. 1767,  d.  1849)  was  born  near  Reading,  Berkshire, 
England.  In  1782  her  father  removed  with  his  family  to  Edgeworthtown, 
Ireland,  to  reside  on  his  estate.  She  lived  here  during  the  remainder  of 
her  life,  with  the  exception  of  occasional  short  visits  to  England,  Scot- 
land, and  France.  She  was  educated  principally  by  her  father,  and  they 
were  colaborers  in  literary  productions,  among  which  were  "  Essays  on 
Practical  Education,"  and  the  "  Parent's  Assistant."  Her  novels  and 
tales  were  written  without  assistance,  and  her  fame  as  a  writer  rests  on 
them.  The  best  known  of  these  are  "  Castle  Rackrent,"  "  Moral  Tales," 
"Tales  of  Fashionable  Life,"  "Frank,"  "The  Modern  Griselda,"  and 
"  Helen.''  Miss  Edgeworth  excels  in  the  truthful  delineation  of  char- 
acter, and  her  works  are  full  of  practical  good  sense  and  genuine  humor. 

Mrs.  Bolingbroke.  I  WISH  I  knew  what  was  the  matter 
with  me  this  morning.  Why  do  you  keep  the  newspaper 
all  to  yourself,  my  dear  ? 

Mr.  Bolingbroke.  Here  it  is  for  you,  my  dear;  I  have 
finished  it. 

Mrs.  B.  I  humbly  thank  you  for  giving  it  to  me  when 
you  have  done  with  it.  I  hate  stale  news.  Is  there  any- 
thing in  the  paper?  for  I  can  not  be  at  the  trouble  of 
hunting  it. 

Mr.  B.  Yes,  my  dear ;  there  are  the  marriages  of  two  of 
our  friends. 

Mrs.  B.     Who  ?     Who  ? 

Mr.  B.  Your  friend,  the  widow  Nettleby,  to  her  cousin 
John  Kettleby. 

(5.— 18.) 


274  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


Mrs.  B.     Mrs.  Nettleby  ?     Dear !     But  why  did  you  tell 


me  r 

Mr.  B.     Because  you  asked  me,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  Oh,  but  it  is  a  hundred  times  pleasanter  to 
read  the  paragraph  one's  self.  One  loses  all  the  pleasure 
of  the  surprise  by  being  told.  Well,  whose  was  the  other 
marriage  ? 

Mr.  B.  Oh,  my  dear,  I  will  not  tell  you;  I  will  leave 
you  the  pleasure  of  the  surprise. 

Mrs.  B.  But  you  see  I  can  not  find  it.  How  provoking 
you  are,  my  dear !  Do  pray  tell  me. 

Mr.  B.     Our  friend  Mr.  Granby. 

Mrs.  B.  Mr.  Granby  ?  Dear !  Why  did  you  not  make 
me  guess  ?  I  should  have  guessed  him  directly.  But  why 
do  you  call  him  our  friend?  I  am  sure  he  is  no  friend 
of  mine,  nor  ever  was.  I  took  an  aversion  to  him,  as  you 
remember,  the  very  first  day  I  saw  him.  I  am  sure  he  is 
no  friend  of  mine. 

Mr.  B.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  my  dear ;  but  I  hope  you  will 
go  and  see  Mrs.  Granby. 

Mrs.  B.     Not  I,  indeed,  my  dear.     Who  was  she  ? 

Mr.  B.     Miss  Cooke. 

Mrs.  B.  Cooke  ?  But  there  are  so  many  Cookes.  Can't 
you  distinguish  her  any  way  ?  Has  she  no  Christian 
name? 

Mr.  B.     Emma,  I  think.     Yes,  Emma. 

Mrs.  B.  Emma  Cooke  ?  No ;  it  can  not  be  my  friend 
Emma  Cooke;  for  I  am  sure  she  was  cut  out  for  an  old 
maid. 

Mr.  B.  This  lady  seems  to  me  to  be  cut  out  for  a  good 
wife. 

Mrs.  B.  Maybe  so.  I  am  sure  I  '11  never  go  to  see 
her.  Pray,  my  dear,  how  came  you  to  see  so  much  of 
her? 

Mr.  B.  I  have  seen  very  little  of  her,  my  dear.  I 
only  saw  her  two  or  three  times  before  she  was  married. 


FIFTH    READER.  275 

Mrs.  B.  Then,  my  dear,  how  could  you  decide  that  she 
was  cut  out  for  a  good  wife?  I  am  sure  you  could  not 
judge  of  her  by  seeing  her  only  two  or  three  times,  and 
before  she  was  married. 

Mr.  B.  Indeed,  my  love,  that  is  a  very  just  observa- 
tion. 

Mrs.  B.  I  understand  that  compliment  perfectly,  and 
thank  you  for  it,  my  dear.  I  must  own  I  can  bear  any- 
thing better  than  irony. 

Mr.  B.     Irony  ?  my  dear,  I  was  perfectly  in  earnest. 

Mrs.  B.  Yes,  yes;  in  earnest;  so  I  perceive;  I  may 
naturally  be  dull  of  apprehension,  but  my  feelings  are 
quick  enough ;  I  comprehend  too  well.  Yes,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  judge  of  a  woman  before  marriage,  or  to  guess  what 
sort  of  a  wife  she  will  make.  I  presume  you  speak  from 
experience;  you  have  been  disappointed  yourself,  and  re- 
pent your  choice. 

Mr.  B.  My  dear,  what  did  I  say  that  was  like  this? 
Upon  my  word,  I  meant  no  such  thing.  I  really  was  not 
thinking  of  you  in  the  least. 

Mrs.  B.  No,  you  never  think  of  me  now.  I  can  easily 
believe  that  you  were  not  thinking  of  me  in  the  least. 

Mr.  B.  But  I  said  that  only  to  prove  to  you  that  I 
could  not  be  thinking  ill  of  you,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  But  I  would  rather  that  you  thought  ill  of  me 
than  that  you  should  not  think  of  me  at  all. 

Mr.  B.  Well,  my  dear,  I  will  even  think  ill  of  you  if 
that  will  please  you. 

Mrs.  B.  Do  you  laugh  at  me  ?  When  it  comes  to  this 
I  am  wretched  indeed.  Never  man  laughed  at  the  woman 
he  loved.  As  long  as  you  had  the  slightest  remains  of 
love  for  me  you  could  not  make  me  an  object  of  derision; 
ridicule  and  love  are  incompatible,  absolutely  incompatible. 
Well,  I  have  done  my  best,  my  very  best,  to  make  you 
happy,  but  in  vain.  I  see  I  am  not  cut  out  to  be  a  good 
wife.  Happy,  happy  Mrs.  Granby ! 


276  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Mr.  B.  Happy,  I  hope  sincerely,  that  she  will  be  with 
my  friend;  but  my  happiness  must  depend  on  you,  my 
love ;  so,  for  my  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  be  composed, 
and  do  not  torment  yourself  with  such  fancies. 

Mrs.  B.  I  do  wonder  whether  this  Mrs.  Granby  is 
really  that  Miss  Emma  Cooke.  I'll  go  and  see  her  di- 
rectly ;  see  her  I  must. 

Mr.  B.  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,  my  dear;  for  I  am 
sure  a  visit  to  his  wife  will  give  my  friend  Granby  real 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  B.  I  promise  you,  my  dear,  I  do  not  go  to  give 
him  pleasure,  or  you  either,  but  to  satisfy  my  own  curi- 
osity. 

DEFINITIONS. — Fron-y,  language  intended  to  convey  a  meaning 
contrary  to  its  literal  signification.  De-ri'sion,  the  act  of  laughing 
at  in  contempt.  In-eom-pat'i-ble,  that  can  not  exist  together. 


LXXXIX.    THE  RAINY  DAY. 

1.  THE  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  moldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall. 

And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

2.  My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 

My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  moldering  Past, 
But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 
And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 


FIFTH    READER.  277 

3.   Be  still,  sad  heart!   and  cease  repining; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining; 
Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall, 
Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary, 

— Longfellow. 


XC.  BREAK,  BREAK,  BREAK. 

Alfred  Tennyson  (6. 1809,  d.  1892)  was  born  in  Somersby,  Lincolnshire, 
England.  He  graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  His  first  volume 
of  poems  was  published  in  1830,  but  it  made  little  impression  and  was 
severely  criticised.  On  the  publication  of  his  third  series  in  1842,  his  poetic 
genius  began  to  receive  general  recognition.  Mr.  Tennyson  was  made 
poet  laureate  in  1850,  and  was  regarded  as  the  foremost  living  poet  of 
England.  For  several  years  his  residence  was  on  the  Isle  of  Wight.  In 
1884,  he  was  raised  to  the  peerage. 

1.  BREAK,  break,  break, 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  0  sea! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

2.  Oh,  well  for  the  fisherman's  boy, 

That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  play! 
Oh,  well  for  the  sailor  lad, 

That  he  sings  in  his  boat  on  the  bay! 

3.  And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill; 
But  oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 

4.  Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  0  sea ! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 
Will  never  come  back  to  me. 


278  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


XCI.     TRANSPORTATION   AND   PLANTING   OF   SEEDS. 


Henry  David  Thoreau  (6.  1817,  d.  1862).  This  eccentric  American 
author  and  naturalist  was  born  at  Concord,  Mass.  He  graduated  at  Har- 
vard University  in  1837.  He  was  a  good  English  and  classical  scholar, 
and  was  well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  the  East.  His  father  was 
a  maker  of  lead  pencils,  and  he  followed  the  business  for  a  time,  but  after- 
wards supported  himself  mainly  by  teaching,  lecturing,  land  surveying, 
and  carpentering.  In  1845  he  built  himself  a  small  wooden  house  near 
Concord,  on  the  shore  of  Walden  Pond,  where  he  lived  about  two  years. 
He  was  intimate  with  Hawthorne,  Emerson,  and  other  literary  celebri- 
ties. His  principal  works  are  "  Walden,  or  Life  in  the  Woods,"  "  A  Week 
on  Concord  and  Merrimac  Rivers,"  "Excursions,"  "Maine  Woods," 
"  Cape  Cod,"  "  A  Yankee  in  Canada,"  and  "  Letters  to  Various  Persons." 
In  descriptive  power  Mr.  Thoreau  has  few,  if  any,  superiors. 


1.  IN  all  the  pines  a  very  thin  membrane,  in  appearance 
much  like  an  insect's  wing,  grows  over  and  around   the 
seed,  and  independent  of  it,  while  the  latter  is  being  de- 
veloped within  its  base.     In  other  words,  a  beautiful  thin 
sack  is  woven  around  the  seed,  with  a  handle  to  it  such  as 
the  wind  can  take  hold  of,  and  it  is  then  committed  to  the 
wind,  expressly  that  it  may  transport  the  seed  and  extend 
the  range  of  the  species;  and  this  it  does  as  effectually 
as  when  seeds  are  sent  by  mail,  in  a  different  kind  of  sack, 
from  the  patent  office. 

2.  There  is,  then,  no  necessity  for  supposing  that  the 
pines  have  sprung  up  from  nothing,  and  I  am  aware  that 
I  am  not  at  all  peculiar  in  asserting  that  they  come  from 
seeds,  though  the  mode  of  their  propagation  by  Nature  has 
been  but  little   attended  to.     They  are  very  extensively 
raised  from  the  seed  in  Europe,  and  are  beginning  to  be 
here. 

3.  When  you  cut  down  an  oak  wood,  a  pine  wood  will 
not  at  once  spring  up  there  unless  there  are,  or  have  been 
quite  recently,  seed-bearing  pines  near  enough  for  the  seeds 
to  be  blown  from  them.     But,  adjacent  to  a  forest  of  pines, 
if  you  prevent  other  crops  from   growing  there,  you  will 


FIFTH   READER.  279 

surely  have  an  extension  of  your  pine  forest,  provided  the 
soil  is  suitable. 

4.  As  I  walk  amid  hickories,  even  in  August,  I  hear  the 
sound  of  green  pignuts  falling  from  time  to  time,  cut  off 
by  the  chickaree  over  my  head.     In  the  fall  I  notice  on 
the  ground,  either  within  or  in  the  neighborhood  of  oak 
woods,  on  all  sides  of  the  town,  stout  oak  twigs  three  or 
four  inches  long,  bearing  half  a  dozen  empty  acorn  cups, 
which  twigs  have  been  gnawed  off  by  squirrels,  on  both 
sides  of  the  nuts,  in  order  to  make  them  more  portable. 
The  jays  scream  and  the  red  squirrels  scold  while  you  are 
clubbing  and  shaking  the  chestnut  trees,  for  they  are  there 
on  the  same  errand,  and  two  of  a  trade  never  agree. 

5.  I  frequently  see  a  red  or  a  gray  squirrel  cast  down  a 
green  chestnut  burr,  as   I  am  going   through  the  woods, 
and  I  used  to  think,  sometimes,  that  they  were  cast  at  me. 
In  fact,  they  are  so   busy  about  it,  in  the  midst  of  the 
chestnut  season,  that  you  can  not  stand  long  in  the  woods 
without  hearing  one  fall. 

6.  A  sportsman  told  me  that  he  had,  the  day  before  — 
that  was  in  the  middle  of  October  —  seen  a  green  chestnut 
burr  dropped  on  our  great  river  meadow,  fifty  rods  from  the 
nearest  wood,  and  much  farther  from  the  nearest  chestnut 
tree,  and  he  could  not  tell  how  it  came  there.     Occasion- 
ally, when  chestnutting  in  midwinter,  I  find  thirty  or  forty 
nuts  in  a  pile,  left  in  its  gallery  just  under  the  leaves,  by 
the  common  wood  mouse. 

7.  But  especially,  in  the  winter,  the  extent  to  which 
this  transportation  and  planting  of  nuts  is  carried  on,  is 
made  apparent  by  the  snow.      In  almost  every  wood  you 
will  see  where  the  red  or  gray  squirrels  have  pawed  down 
through  the  snow  in  a  hundred  places,  sometimes  two  feet 
deep,  and  almost  always  directly  to  a  nut  or  a  pine  cone,  — 
as  directly  as  if  they  had  started  from  it  and  bored  upward, 
—  which  you  and  I  could  not  have  done.     It  would  be  diffi- 
cult for  us  to  find  one  before  the  snow  falls.     Commonly, 


280  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

no  doubt,  they  had  deposited  them  there  in  the  fall.  You 
wonder  if  they  remember  the  localities  or  discover  them  by 
the  scent. 

8.  The  red  squirrel  commonly  has  its  winter  abode  in 
the  earth  under  a  thicket  of  evergreens,  frequently  under  a 
small  clump  of  evergreens  in  the  midst  of  a  deciduous 
wood.     If  there  are  any  nut  trees,  which  still  retain  their 
nuts,  standing  at  a  distance  without  the  wood,  their  paths 
often  lead  directly  to  and  from  them.     We,  therefore,  need 
not  suppose  an  oak  standing  here  and  there  in  the  wood  in 
order  to  seed  it,  but  if  a  few  stand  within  twenty  or  thirty 
rods  of  it,  it  is  sufficient. 

9.  I  think  that  I  may  venture  to  say  that  every  white- 
pine  cone  that  falls  to  the  earth  naturally  in  this  town, 
before  opening  and  losing  its  seeds,  and  almost  every  pitch- 
pine  one  that  falls  at  all,  is  cut  off  by  a  squirrel ;  and  they 
begin  to  pluck  them  long  before  they  are  ripe,  so  that 
when  the  crop  of  white-pine  cones  is  a  small  one,  as  it 
commonly  is,  they  cut  off  thus  almost  everyone  of  these 
before  it  fairly  ripens. 

10.  I  think,  moreover,  that  their  design,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  in  cutting  them  off  green,  is  partly  to  prevent  their 
opening  and  losing  their  seeds,  for  these  are  the  ones  for 
which  they  dig  through  the  snow,  and  the  only  white-pine 
cones   which  contain  anything  then.      I  have  counted  in 
one  heap  the  cores  of  two  hundred  and  thirty-nine  pitch- 
pine  cones  which  had  been  cut  off  and  stripped  by  the  red 
squirrel  the  previous  winter. 

11.  The  nuts  thus  left  on  the  surface,  or  buried  just  be- 
neath it,  are  placed  in  the  most  favorable  circumstances  for 
germinating.     I  have  sometimes  wondered  how  those  which 
merely  fell  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  got  planted ;   but, 
by  the  end  of  December,  I  find  the  chestnut  of  the  same 
year  partially  mixed  with  the  mold,  as  it  were,  under  the 
decaying  and  moldy  leaves,  where  there  is  all  the  mois- 
ture and  manure  they  want,  for  the  nuts  fall  fast.     In  a 


FIFTH   READER.  281 

plentiful  year  a  large  proportion  of  the  nuts  are  thus  cov- 
ered loosely  an  inch  deep,  and  are,  of  course,  somewhat 
concealed  from  squirrels. 

12.  One  winter,  when  the  crop  had   been  abundant,  I 
got,  with  the  aid  of  a  rake,  many  quarts  of  these  nuts  as 
late  as  the  tenth  of  January ;  and  though  some  bought  at 
the   store  the   same  day  were  more  than  half  of  them 
moldy,  I  did  not  find  a  single   moldy  one  among  those 
which  I  picked  from  under  the  wet  and  moldy  leaves, 
where  they  had  been  snowed  on  once  or  twice.     Nature 
knew  how  to  pack  them  best.     They  were  still  plump  and 
tender.     Apparently  they  do  not  heat  there,  though  wet. 
In  the  spring  they  are  all  sprouting. 

13.  Occasionally,  when  threading  the  woods  in  the  fall, 
you  will  hear  a  sound  as  if  some  one  had  broken  a  twig, 
and,  looking  up,  see  a  jay  pecking  at  an  acorn,  or  you  will 
see  a  flock  of  them  at  once  about  it,  in  the  top  of  an  oak, 
and  hear  them  break  it  off.     They  then  fly  to  a  suitable 
limb,  and  placing  the  acorn  under  one  foot,  hammer  away 
at  it  busily,  making  a  sound  like  a  woodpecker's  tapping, 
looking  round  from  time  to  time  to  see  if  any  foe  is  ap- 
proaching, and  soon  reach  the  meat,  and  nibble  at  it,  hold- 
ing up  their  heads  to  swallow  while  they  hold  the  remain- 
der very  firmly  with  their  claws.     Nevertheless,  it  often 
drops  to  the  ground  before  the  bird  has  done  with  it. 

14.  I  can  confirm  what  William  Barton  wrote  to  Wilson, 
the  ornithologist,  that  "  The  jay  is  one  of  the  most  useful 
agents  in  the  economy  of  nature  for  disseminating  forest 
trees  and  other  nuciferous  and  hard-seeded  vegetables  on 
which  they  feed.     In  performing  this  necessary  duty  they 
drop  abundance  of  seed  in  their  flight  over  fields,  hedges, 
and  by  fences,  where  they  alight  to  deposit  them  in  the 
post  holes,  etc.     It  is  remarkable  what  numbers  of  young 
trees  rise  up  in  fields  and  pastures  after  a  wet  winter  and 
spring.     These  birds  alone  are  capable  in  a  few  years'  time 
to  replant  all  the  cleared  lands." 


282  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

15.  I  have  noticed  that  squirrels  also  frequently  drop 
nuts  in  open  land,  which  will  still  further  account  for  the 
oaks  and  walnuts  which  spring  up  in  pastures ;  for,  depend 
on  it,  every  new  tree  comes  from  a  seed.  When  I  examine 
the  little  oaks,  one  or  two  years  old,  in  such  places,  I  in- 
variably find  the  empty  acorn  from  which  they  sprung. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Mem'brane,  a  thin,  soft  tissue  of  interwoven 
fibers.  2.  Pr6p-a-ga'tion,  the  continuance  of  a  kind  by  successive 
production.  4.  Port'a-ble,  capable  of  being  carried.  7.  Trans- 
por-ta'tion,  the  act  of  conveying  from  one  place  to  another.  8.  De- 
cid'u-ous,  said  of  trees  whose  leaves  fall  in  autumn.  11.  Ger'mi- 
nat-ing,  sprouting,  beginning  to  grow.  14.  Or-ni-thol'o-gist,  one 
skilled  in  the  science  which  treats  of  birds.  E-eon'o-my,  orderly 
system.  Dis-sern'i-nat-ing,  scattering  for  growth  and  propagation. 
Nu-9if'er-ous,  bearing  nuts. 


XCII.    SPRING  AGAIN. 

Celia  Tbaxter  (6. 1836,  d.  1894) ,  whose  maiden  name  was  Laighton,  was 
born  in  Portsmouth,  N.H.  Much  of  her  early  life  was  passed  on  White 
Island,  one  of  a  group  of  small  islands,  called  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  about 
ten  miles  from  the  shore,  where  she  lived  in  the  lighthouse  cottage.  In 
1867-68,  she  published,  in  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  a  number  of  papers 
on  these  islands,  which  were  afterwards  bound  in  a  separate  volume. 
Mrs.  Thaxter  was  a  contributor  to  several  periodicals,  and  in  strength  and 
beauty  of  style  has  few  equals  among  American  writers.  The  following 
selection  is  from  a  volume  of  her  poems  entitled  "  Drift  Weed." 

1.  I  STOOD  on  the  height  in  the  stillness 

And  the  planet's  outline  scanned, 
And  half  was  drawn  with  the  line  of  sea 
And  half  with  the  far  blue  land. 

2.  With  wings  that  caught  the  sunshine 

In  the  crystal  deeps  of  the  sky, 
Like  shapes  of  dreams,  the  gleaming  gulls 
Went  slowly  floating  by. 


FIFTH    READER.  283 

3.  Below  me  the  boats  in  the  harbor 

Lay  still,  with  their  white  sails  furled; 
Sighing  away  into  silence, 

The  breeze  died  off  the  world. 

4.  On  the  weather-worn,  ancient  ledges 

Peaceful  the  calm  light  slept; 
And  the  chilly  shadows,  lengthening, 
Slow  to  the  eastward  crept. 

5.  The  snow  still  lay  in  the  hollows, 

And  where  the  salt  waves  met 
The  iron  rock,  all  ghastly  white 
The  thick  ice  glimmered  yet. 

6.  But  the  smile  of  the  sun  was  kinder, 

The  touch  of  the  air  was  sweet; 
The  pulse  of  the  cruel  ocean  seemed 
Like  a  human  heart  to  beat. 


7.  Frost-locked,  storm-beaten,  and  lonely, 

In  the  midst  of  the  wintry  main, 
Our  bleak  rock  yet  the  tidings  heard: 
"There  shall  be  spring  again!" 

8.  Worth  all  the  waiting  and  watching, 

The  woe  that  the  winter  wrought, 
Was  the  passion  of  gratitude  that  shook 
My  soul  at  the  blissful  thought! 

9.  Soft  rain  and  flowers  and  sunshine, 

Sweet  winds  and  brooding  skies, 
Quick-flitting  birds  to  fill  the  air 
With  clear  delicious  cries; 


284  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

10.  And  the  warm  sea's  mellow  murmur 

Resounding  day  and  night; 
A  thousand  shapes  and  tints  and  tones 
Of  manifold  delight, 

11.  Nearer  and  ever  nearer 

Drawing  with  every  day! 
But  a  little  longer  to  wait  and  watch 
'Neath  skies  so  cold  and  gray; 

12.  And  hushed  is  the  roar  of  the  bitter  north 

Before  the  might  of  the  spring, 
And  up  the  frozen  slope  of  the  world 
Climbs  summer,  triumphing. 


XCIII.    RELIGION  THE  ONLY  BASIS  OP  SOCIETY. 

William  Ellery  Charming  (6.  1780,  d.  1842),  an  eminent  divine  and 
orator,  was  born  at  Newport,  R.I.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  with  the 
highest  honors  in  1798,  and,  in  1803,  he  was  made  pastor  of  the  Federal 
Street  Church,  Boston,  with  which  he  maintained  his  connection  until 
his  death.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  being  much  enfeebled,  he  with- 
drew almost  entirely  from  his  pastoral  duties,  and  devoted  himself  to 
literature.  Dr.  Channing's  writings  are  published  in  six  volumes,  and 
are  mainly  devoted  to  theology. 

1.  RELIGION  is  a  social  concern;  for  it  operates  power- 
fully on  society,  contributing  in  various  ways  to  its  stability 
and  prosperity.  Religion  is  not  merely  a  private  affair; 
the  community  is  deeply  interested  in  its  diffusion ;  for  it  is 
the  best  support  of  the  virtues  and  principles,  on  which  the 
social  order  rests.  Pure  and  undefiled  religion  is  to  do 
good;  and  it  follows,  very  plainly,  that  if  God  be  the 
Author  and  Friend  of  society,  then,  the  recognition  of  him 
must  enforce  all  social  duty,  and  enlightened  piety  must 
give  its  whole  strength  to  public  order. 


FIFTH   READER.  5285 

2.  Few  men  suspect,  perhaps  no  man  comprehends,  the 
extent  of  the   support   given  by  religion  to  every  virtue. 
No   man,   perhaps,   is   aware   how  much  our    moral    and 
social  sentiments  are  fed  from  this  fountain ;  how  powerless 
conscience  would  become  without  the  belief  of  a  God ;  how 
palsied  would  be  human  benevolence,  were  there  not  the 
sense  of  a  higher  benevolence  to  quicken  and  sustain  it; 
how  suddenly  the  whole   social  fabric  would  quake,  and 
with  what  a  fearful  crash  it  would  sink  into  hopeless  ruin, 
were  the  ideas  of  a  Supreme  Being,  of  accountableness  and 
of  a  future  life  to  be  utterly  erased  from  every  mind. 

3.  And,  let  men  thoroughly  believe  that  they  are  the 
work  and  sport  of  chance;   that  no  superior  intelligence 
concerns  itself  with  human  affairs ;  that  all  their  improve- 
ments perish  forever  at  death;   that  the   weak  have  no 
guardian,  and  the  injured  no  avenger;   that  there   is   no 
recompense  for   sacrifices  to  uprightness   and  the   public 
good;   that   an  oath  is  unheard  in  heaven;    that   secret 
crimes  have  no  witness  but  the  perpetrator;   that  human 
existence  has  no  purpose,  and  human  virtue  no  unfailing 
friend;   that  this  brief  life  is  everything  to  us,  and  death 
is  total,  everlasting  extinction;  once  let  them   thoroughly 
abandon  religion,  and  who  can  conceive   or  describe  the 
extent  of  the  desolation  which  would  follow? 

4.  We  hope,   perhaps,   that  human  laws    and    natural 
sympathy   would  hold  society   together.      As    reasonably 
might  we   believe    that  were  the    sun   quenched   in   the 
heavens,  our  torches  would  illuminate,  and  our  fires  quicken 
and  fertilize  the  creation.     What  is  there  in  human  nature 
to  awaken  respect  and   tenderness,  if  man   is   the   unpro- 
tected insect  of  a  day  ?      And  what  is  he  more,  if  atheism 
be  true? 

5.  Erase  all  thought  and  fear  of  God  from  a  commu- 
nity, and  selfishness  and  sensuality  would  absorb  the  whole 
man.     Appetite,  knowing  no  restraint,  and  suffering,  having 
no  solace  or  hope,  would  trample  in  scorn  on  the  restraints 


288  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

of  human  laws.  Virtue,  duty,  principle,  would  be  mocked 
and  spurned  as  unmeaning  sounds.  A  sordid  self-interest 
would  supplant  every  feeling ;  and  man  would  become,  in 
fact,  what  the  theory  in  atheism  declares  him  to  be,  —  a 
companion  for  brutes. 

DEFINITIONS. —  1.  Com-mu'ni-ty,  society  at  large,  the  public. 
Dif-fu'sion,  extension,  spread.  En-light'ened,  elevated  by  knowledge 
and  religion.  2.  Fab'rie,  any  system  composed  of  connected  parts. 
E-rased',  blotted  out.  3.  Per'pe-tra-tor,  one  who  commits  a  crime. 
Ex-tine'tion,  a  putting  an  end  to.  4.  Fer'ti-llze,  to  make  fruitful. 
A'the-i§m,  disbelief  in  God.  Sen-su-al'i-ty,  indulgence  in  animal 
pleasure. 


XCIV.   ROCK  ME  TO  SLEEP. 


Elizabeth  Akers  Allen  (&.  1832, )  was  born  at  Strong,  Maine, 

and  passed  her  childhood  amidst  the  picturesque  scenery  of  that  neigh- 
borhood. She  lost  her  mother  when  very  young,  but  inherited  her  grace 
and  delicacy  of  thought.  Shortly  after  her  mother's  death,  her  father 
removed  to  Farmington,  Maine,  a  town  noted  for  its  literary  people. 
Mrs.  Allen's  early  pieces  appeared  over  the  pseudonym  of  "  Florence 
Percy."  Her  first  verses  appeared  when  she  was  twelve  years  old; 
and  her  first  volume,  entitled  "  Forest  Buds  from  the  Woods  of  Maine," 
was  published  in  1856.  For  some  years  she  was  assistant  editor  of  the 
"Portland  Transcript."  The  following  selection  was  claimed  by  five  dif* 
ferent  persons,  who  attempted  to  steal  the  honor  of  its  composition. 


1.   BACKWARD,  turn  backward,  0  Time,  in  your  flight, 
Make  me  a  child  again,  just  for  to-night! 
Mother,  come  back  from  the  echoless  shore, 
Take  me  again  to  your  heart  as  of  yore; 
Kiss  from  my  forehead  the  furrows  of  care, 
Smooth  the  few  silver  threads  out  of  my  hair; 
Over  my  slumbers  your  loving  watch  keep;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  —  rock  me  to  sleep! 


FIFTH   READER.  287 

2.  Backward,  flow  backward,  O  tide  of  the  years! 
I  am  so  weary  of  toil  and  of  tears; 

Toil  without  recompense,  tears  all  in  vain; 
Take  them,  and  give  me  my  childhood  again! 
I  have  grown  weary  of  dust  and  decay, — 
Weary  of  flinging  my  soul  wealth  away; 
Weary  of  sowing  for  others  to  reap;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother, — rock  me  to  sleep! 

3.  Tired  of  the  hollow,  the  base,  the  untrue, 
Mother,  O  mother,  my  heart  calls  for  you! 
Many  a  summer  the  grass  has  grown  green, 
Blossomed  and  faded,  our  faces  between: 

Yet  with  strong  yearning  and  passionate  pain, 
Long  I  to-night  for  your  presence  again. 
Come  from  the  silence  so  long  and  so  deep;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  —  rock  me  to  sleep ! 

4   Over  my  heart  in  the  days  that  are  flown, 
No  love  like  mother  love  ever  has  shone; 
No  other  worship  abides  and  endures, 
Faithful,  unselfish,  and  patient  like  yours: 
None  like  a  mother  can  charm  away  pain 
From  the  sick  soul,  and  the  world-weary  brain. 
Slumber's  soft  calms  o'er  my  heavy  lids  creep;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother, — rock  me  to  sleep! 

5.   Come,  let  your  brown  hair,  just  lighted  with  gold, 
Fall  on  your  shoulders  again,  as  of  old; 
Let  it  drop  over  my  forehead  to-night, 
Shading  my  faint  eyes  away  from  the  light; 
For  with  its  sunny-edged  shadows  once  more, 
Haply  will  throng  the  sweet  visions  of  yore; 
Lovingly,  softly,  its  bright  billows  sweep;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  —  rock  me  to  sleep! 


288  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

6.   Mother,  dear  mother,  the  years  have  been  long 
Since  1  last  listened  your  lullaby  song; 
Sing,  then,  and  unto  my  soul  it  shall  seem 
Womanhood's  years  have  been  only  a  dream; 
Clasped  to  your  heart  in  a  loving  embrace, 
With  your  light  lashes  just  sweeping  my  face, 
Never  hereafter  to  wake  or  to  weep;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  —  rock  me  to  sleep! 


XCV.    MAN  AND  THE  INFERIOR  ANIMALS. 

1.  THE  chief  difference  between  man  and  the  other  ani- 
mals consists  in  this,  that  the  former  has  reason,  whereas 
the  latter  have  only  instinct;  but,  in  order  to  understand 
what  we  mean  by  the  terms  reason  and  instinct,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  mention  three  things  in  which  the  difference 
very  distinctly  appears. 

2.  Let  us  first,  to  bring  the  parties  as  nearly  on  a  level 
as  possible,  consider  man  in  a  savage  state,  wholly  occu- 
pied, like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  in  providing  for  the  wants 
of  his  animal  nature;    and  here  the  first  distinction  that 
appears  between  them  is  the  use  of  implements.     When 
the  savage  provides  himself  with  a  hut  or  a  wigwam  for 
shelter,  or  that  he  may  store  up  his  provisions,  he  does  no 
more  than  is  done  by  the  rabbit,  the  beaver,  the  bee,  and 
birds  of  every  species. 

3.  But  the  man  can  not  make  any  progress  in  this  work 
without  tools;   he  must  provide  himself  with  an  ax  even 
before  he  can  cut  down  a  tree   for  its   timber;    whereas 
these  animals  form  their  burrows,  their  cells,  or  their  nests, 
with  no  other  tools  than  those  with  which  nature  has  pro- 
vided them.     In  cultivating  the  ground,  also,  man  can  do 
nothing  without  a  spade  or  a  plow;  nor  can  he  reap  what 
he  has  sown  till  he  has  shaped  an  implement  with  which  to 


FIFTH    READER.  289 

cut  down  his  harvest.     But  the  inferior  animals  provide  for 
themselves  and  their  young  without  any  of  these  things. 

4.  Now  for  the  second  distinction.     Man,  in  all  his  oper- 
ations, makes  mistakes ;  animals  make  none.     Did  you  ever 
hear  of  such  a  thing  as  a  bird  sitting  on  a  twig  lament- 
ing over   her  half-finished   nest   and    puzzling   her   little 
head  to  know  how  to  complete  it?     Or  did  you  ever  see 
the  cells  of  a  beehive  in  clumsy,  irregular  shapes,  or  ob- 
serve anything  like  a  discussion  in  the  little  community, 
as  if  there  were  a  difference  of  opinion  among  the  archi- 
tects ? 

5.  The  lower  animals  are  even  better  physicians  than  we 
are ;  for  when  they  are  ill,  they  will,  many  of  them,  seek 
out  some  particular  herb,  which  they  do  not  use  as  food, 
and  which  possesses  a  medicinal  quality  exactly  suited  to 
the  complaint;    whereas,  the  whole  college  of  physicians 
will  dispute  for  a  century  about  the  virtues  of  a  single 
drug. 

6.  Man  undertakes  nothing  in  which  he  is  not  more  or 
less  puzzled ;  and  must  try  numberless  experiments  before 
he  can  bring  his  undertakings  to  anything  like  perfection ; 
even  the  simplest  operations  of  domestic  life  are  not  well 
performed  without  some  experience ;  and  the  term  of  man's 
life  is  half  wasted  before  he  has  done  with  his  mistakes 
and  begins  to  profit  by  his  lessons. 

7.  The   third  distinction  is   that  animals  make  no  im- 
provements; while  the  knowledge,  and  skill,  and  the  suc- 
cess of  man  are  perpetually  on  the  increase.     Animals,  in 
all  their  operations,  follow  the  first  impulse  of  nature  or 
that  instinct  which  God  has  implanted  in  them.      In  all 
they  do  undertake,  therefore,  their  works  are  more  perfect 
and  regular  than  those  of  man. 

8.  But  man,  having  been  endowed  with  the  faculty  of 
thinking  or  reasoning  about  what  he  does,  is  enabled  by 
patience  and  industry  to  correct  the  mistakes  into  which  he 
at  first  falls,  and  to  go  on  constantly  improving.     A  bird'* 

(6.— 19.) 


290  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

nest  is,  indeed,  a  perfect  structure ;  yet  the  nest  of  a  swal- 
low of  the  nineteenth  century  is  not  at  all  more  commodi- 
ous or  elegant  than  those  that  were  built  amid  the  rafters 
of  Noah's  ark.  But  if  we  compare  the  wigwam  of  the 
savage  with  the  temples  and  palaces  of  ancient  Greece  and 
Rome,  we  then  shall  see  to  what  man's  mistakes,  rectified 
and  improved  upon,  conduct  him. 

9.       "  When  the  vast  sun  shall  veil  his  golden  light 
Deep  in  the  gloom  of  everlasting  night ; 
When  wild,  destructive  flames  shall  wrap  the  skies, 
When  ruin  triumphs,  and  when  nature  dies; 
Man  shall  alone  the  wreck  of  worlds  survive ; 
'Mid  falling  spheres,  immortal  man  shall  live." 

—  Jane  Taylor. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Dis-tine'tion,  a  point  of  difference.  Im'ple- 
ments,  utensils,  tools.  Wig'wam,  an  Indian  hut.  3.  Bur'rows, 
holes  in  the  earth  where  animals  lodge.  4.  Dis-€iis'sion,  the  act  of 
arguing  a  point,  debate.  5.  Me-di9'i-nal,  healing.  8.  En-do  wed', 
furnished  with  any  gift,  quality,  etc.  Fae'ul-ty,  ability  to  act  or 
perform.  Ree'ti-fled,  corrected. 


XCVI.  THE  BLIND  MEN  AND  THE  ELEPHANT. 

John  Godfrey  Saxe  (6. 1816,  d.  1887),  an  American  humorist,  lawyer, 
and  journalist,  was  born  at  Highgate,  Vt.  He  graduated  at  Middlebury 
College  in  1839;  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1843;  and  practiced  law 
until  1850,  when  he  became  editor  of  the  "  Burlington  Sentinel."  In  1851, 
he  was  elected  State's  attorney.  "  Progress,  a  Satire,  and  Other  Poems," 
his  first  volume,  was  published  in  1849,  and  several  other  volumes  of 
great  merit  attest  his  originality.  For  genial  humor  and  good-natured 
satire,  Saxe's  writings  rank  among  the  best  of  their  kind,  and  are  very 
popular. 

1.   IT  was  six  men  of  Indostan, 

To  learning  much  inclined, 
"Who  went  to  see  the  elephant, 

(Though  all  of  them  were  blind,) 
That  each  by  observation 

Might  satisfy  his  mind. 


FIFTH   READER.  291 

2.  The  first  approached  the  elephant, 

And,  happening  to  fall 
Against  his  broad  and  sturdy  side, 

At  once  began  to  bawl: 
"God  bless  me!   but  the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  wall ! " 

3.  The  second,  feeling  of  the  tusk, 

Cried:  "Ho!   what  have  we  here, 
So  very  round,  and  smooth,  and  sharp? 

To  me  'tis  very  clear, 
This  wonder  of  an  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  spear!" 

4.  The  third  approached  the  animal, 

And,  happening  to  take 
The  squirming  trunk  within  his  hands, 

Thus  boldly  up  he  spake: 
"I  see,"  quoth  he,  "the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  snake ! " 

5.  The  fourth  reached  out  his  eager  hand, 

And  fell  about  the  knee  : 
"What  most  this  wondrous  beast  is  like, 

Is  very  plain,"  quoth  he; 
"'Tis  clear  enough  the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  tree!" 

6.  The  fifth,  who  chanced  to  touch  the  ear, 

Said:    "E'en  the  blindest  man 
Can  tell  what  this  resembles  most: 

Deny  the  fact  who  can, 
This  marvel  of  an  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  fan!" 


292  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

7.  The  sixth  no  sooner  had  begun 

About  the  beast  to  grope, 
Than,  seizing  on  the  swinging  tail 

That  fell  within  his  scope, 
"I  see,"  quoth  he,  "the  elephant 

Is  very  like  a  rope!" 

8.  And  so  these  men  of  Indostan 

Disputed  loud  and  long, 
Each  in  his  own  opinion 

Exceeding  stiff  and  strong, 
Though  each  was  partly  in  the  right, 

And  all  were  in  the  wrong! 


XCVII.    A  HOME  SCENE. 

Donald  Grant  Mitchell  (6.  1822, ).    This  popular  American 

writer  was  born  in  Norwich,  Conn.  He  graduated  at  Yale  in  1841.  In 
1844  he  went  to  England,  and,  after  traveling  through  that  country  on 
foot,  spent  some  time  on  the  continent.  His  first  volume,  "  Fresh  Glean- 
ings, or  a  New  Sheaf  from  the  Old  Fields  of  Continental  Europe,  by 
Ik  Marvel,"  was  published  in  1847,  soon  after  his  return  home.  He 
revisited  Europe  in  1848.  On  his  return,  he  published  "The  Battle 
Summer."  Mr.  Mitchell  has  contributed  to  the  "  Knickerbocker  Maga- 
zine," the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  several  agricultural  journals.  His 
most  popular  works  are  "  The  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor,"  1850,  and  "  Dream 
Life,"  1851.  Besides  these,  he  has  written  "My  Farm  of  Edgewood," 
"Wet  Days  at  Edgewood,"  "Doctor  Johns,"  a  novel,  "Rural  Studies," 
and  other  works.  He  is  a  charming  writer.  In  1853  he  was  appointed 
United  States  consul  at  Venice.  In  1855  he  settled  on  a  farm  near  New 
Haven,  Conn.,  where  he  now  resides.  The  following  selection  is  from 
"  Dream  Life." 

1.  LITTLE  does  the  boy  know,  as  the  tide  of  years  drifts 
by,  floating  him  out  insensibly  from  the  harbor  of  his  home, 
upon  the  great  sea  of  life,  —  what  joys,  what  opportunities, 
what  affections,  are  slipping  from  him  into  the  shades  of 
that  inexorable  Past,  where  no  man  can  go,  save  on  the 
wings  of  his  dreams. 


FIFTH    READER.  293 

2.  Little  does  he  think,  as  he  leans  upon  the  lap  of  his 
mother,  with  his  eye  turned  to  her,  in  some  earnest  plead- 
ing for  a  fancied  pleasure  of  the  hour,  or  in  some  important 
story  of  his  griefs,  that  such  sharing  of  his  sorrows,  and  such 
sympathy  with  his  wishes,  he  will  find  nowhere  again. 

3.  Little  does  he  imagine  that  the  fond  sister  Nelly,  ever 
thoughtful  of  his  pleasures,  ever  smiling  away  his  griefs, 
will  soon  be  beyond  the  reach  of  either ;  and  that  the  waves 
of  the  years  which  come  rocking  so  gently  under  him  will 
soon  toss  her  far  away,  upon  the  great  swell  of  life. 

4.  But  now,  you  are  there.    The  fire  light  glimmers  upon 
the  walls  of  your  cherished  home.     The  big  chair  of  your 
father  is  drawn  to  its  wonted  corner  by  the  chimney  side ; 
his  head,  just  touched  with  gray,  lies  back  upon  its  oaken 
top.     Opposite  sits  your  mother:   her  figure  is  thin,  her 
look    cheerful,   yet   subdued ;  —  her  arm   perhaps   resting 
on  your  shoulder,  as  she  talks  to  you  in  tones  of  tender 
admonition,  of  the  days  that  are  to  come. 

5.  The  cat  is  purring  on  the  hearth;   the  clock  that 
ticked  so  plainly  when  Charlie  died  is  ticking  on  the  mantel 
still.     The  great  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  with  its 
books  and  work,  waits  only  for  the  lighting  of  the  evening 
lamp,  to  see  a  return  to  its  stores  of  embroidery  and  of 
story. 

6.  Upon  a  little  stand  under  the  mirror,  which  catches 
now  and  then  a  flicker  of  the  fire  light,  and  makes  it  play, 
as  if  in  wanton,  upon  the  ceiling,  lies  that  big  book,  rever- 
enced of  your  New  England  parents  —  the  Family  Bible. 
It  is  a  ponderous,  square  volume,  with  "heavy  silver  clasps, 
that  you  have  often  pressed  open  for  a  look  at  its  quaint, 
old  pictures,  for  a  study  of  those  prettily  bordered  pages, 
which  lie  between  the  Testaments,  and  which  hold  the 
Family  Eecord. 

7.  There    are    the    Births;  —  your    father's    and    your 
mother's ;  it  seems  as  if  they  were  born  a  long  time  ago ;  and 
even  your  own  date  of  birth  appears  an  almost  incredible  dis- 


294  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

tance  back.  Then,  there  are  the  Marriages ;  —  only  one  as 
yet ;  and  your  mother's  name  looks  oddly  to  you :  it  is  hard 
to  think  of  her  as  anyone  else  than  your  doting  parent. 

8.  Last  of  all  come  the  Deaths ;  —  only  one.    Poor  Charlie ! 
How  it  looks !  —  "  Died,  12  September,  18—,  Charles  Henry, 
aged  four  years."    You  know  just  how  it  looks.     You  nave 
turned  to  it  often;   there  you  seem  to  be  joined  to  him, 
though  only  by  the  turning  of  a  leaf. 

9.  And  over  your  thoughts,  as  you  look  at  that  page  of 
the  Record,  there  sometimes  wanders  a  vague,  shadowy  fear, 
which  will  come,  —  that  your  own  name  may  soon  be  there. 
You  try  to  drop  the  notion,  as  if  it  were  not  fairly  your 
own ;  you  affect  to  slight  it,  as  you  would  slight  a  boy  who 
presumed  on  your  acquaintance,  but  whom  you  have  no 
desire  to  know. 

10.  Yet  your  mother  —  how  strange  it  is !  —  has  no  fears 
of  such  dark  fancies.     Even  now,  as  you  stand  beside  her, 
and  as  the  twilight  deepens  in  the  room,  her  low,  silvery 
voice  is  stealing  upon  your  ear,  telling  you  that  she  can 
not  be  long  with  you; — that  the  time  is  coming,  when  you 
must  be  guided  by  your  own  judgment,  and  struggle  with 
the  world  unaided  by  the  friends  of  your  boyhood. 

11.  There  is  a  little  pride,  and  a  great  deal  more  of 
anxiety,  in  your  thoughts  now,  as  you  look  steadfastly  into 
the  home  blaze,  while  those  delicate  fingers,  so  tender  of  your 
happiness,  play  with  the  locks  upon  your  brow.    To  struggle 
with  the  world,  —  that  is  a  proud  thing;  to  struggle  alone, 
—  there  lies  the  doubt!     Then  crowds  in  swift  upon  the 
<salm  of  boyhood  the  first  anxious  thought  of  youth. 

12.  The   hands  of  the  old  clock  upon  the  mantel  that 
ticked  off  the  hours  when  Charlie  sighed  and  when  Charlie 
died,  draw  on  toward  midnight.     The   shadows   that  the 
fireflame  makes  grow  dimmer  and  dimmer.     And  thus  it 
is,  that  Home,  —  boy  home,  passes  away  forever,  —  like  the 
swaying  of  a  pendulum,  —  like  the  fading  of  a  shadow  on 
the  floor. 


FIFTH   READER.  295 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  In-ex'or-a-ble,  not  to  be  changed.  4.  Wont'ed, 
accustomed.  Ad-mo-nf  tion  (pro.  ad-monish'un),  counseling  against 
fault  or  error.  6.  Pon'der-ous,  very  heavy.  Quaint  (pro.  kwant), 
odd  and  antique.  7.  In-ered'i-ble,  impossible  to  be  believed.  Dot'- 
ing,  loving  to  excess.  9.  Vague  (pro.  vag),  indefinite.  Pre-sumed', 
pushed  upon  or  intruded  in  an  impudent  manner. 


XCVIII.    THE  LIGHT  OP  OTHER  DAYS. 


Thomas  Moore  (6.  1779,  d.  1852)  was  born  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  and 
he  was  educated  at  Trinity  College  in  that  city.  In  1799,  he  entered  the 
Middle  Temple,  London,  as  a  student  of  law.  Soon  after  the  publica- 
tion of  his  first  poetical  productions,  he  was  sent  to  Bermuda  in  an 
official  capacity.  He  subsequently  visited  the  United  States.  Moore's 
most  famous  works  are:  "Lalla  Rookh,"  an  Oriental  romance,  1817; 
"The  Loves  of  the  Angels,"  1823;  and  "Irish  Melodies,"  1834;  a  "Life 
of  Lord  Byron,"  and  "The  Epicurean,  an  Eastern  Tale."  "  Moore's  ex- 
cellencies," says  Dr.  Angus,  "consist  in  the  gracefulness  of  his  thoughts, 
the  wit  and  fancy  of  his  allusions  and  imagery,  and  the  music  and  refine- 
ment of  his  versification." 


1.   OFT  in  the  stilly  night 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Fond  memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me: 
The  smiles,  the  tears 
Of  boyhood's  years, 
The  words  of  love  then  spoken; 
The  eyes  that  shone, 
Now  dimmed  and  gone, 
The  cheerful  hearts  now  broken! 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 


296  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.   When  I  remember  all 

The  friends  so  linked  together 
I've  seen  around  me  fall 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather, 
I  feel  like  one 
Who  treads  alone 
Some  banquet  hall  deserted, 
Whose  lights  are  fled 
Whose  garlands  dead, 
And  all  but  he  departed. 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 


XCIX.    A  CHASE  IN  THE  ENGLISH  CHANNEL. 

James  Fenimore  Cooper  (6.  1789,  d.  1851).  This  celebrated  Amer- 
ican novelist  was  born  in  Burlington,  N.J.  His  father  removed  to  the 
state  of  New  York  about  1790,  and  founded  Cooperstown,  on  Otsego  Lake. 
He  studied  three  years  at  Yale,  and  then  entered  the  navy  as  a  com- 
mon sailor.  He  became  a  midshipman  in  1806,  and  was  afterwards 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant;  but  he  left  the  service  in  1811. 
His  first  novel,  "Precaution,"  was  published  in  1819;  his  best  work, 
"The  Spy,"  a  tale  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  in  1821.  The  success  of 
"The  Spy"  was  almost  unprecedented,  and  its  author  at  once  took 
rank  among  the  most  popular  writers  of  the  day.  "The  Pilot"  and 
"The  Red  Rover"  are  considered  his  best  sea  novels.  "  The  Pioneers," 
"The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  "The  Prairie,"  "The  Pathfinder,"  and 
"The  Deerslayer  "  are  among  the  best  of  his  tales  of  frontier  life.  The 
best  of  his  novels  have  been  translated  into  nearly  all  of  the  European 
languages,  and  into  some  of  those  of  Asia.  "  The  creations  of  his 
genius,"  says  Bryant,  "shall  survive  through  centuries  to  come,  and 
only  perish  with  our  language."  The  following  selection  is  from  "  The 
Pilot." 

1.  THE  ship  which  the  American  frigate  had  now  to 
oppose,  was  a  vessel  of  near  her  own  size  and  equipage; 
and  when  Griffith  looked  at  her  again,  he  perceived  that 


FIFTH    READER.  297 

she  had  made  her  preparations  to  assert  her  equality  in 
manful  fight. 

2.  Her  sails  had  been  gradually  reduced  to  the  usual 
quantity,  and,   by  certain  movements  on   her   decks,   the 
lieutenant  and  his  constant  attendant,  the  Pilot,  well  un- 
derstood that  she  only  wanted  to  lessen  the  distance  a  few- 
hundred  yards  to  begin  the  action. 

"  Now  spread  everything,"  whispered  the  stranger. 

3.  Griffith  applied  the  trumpet  to  his  mouth,  and  shouted, 
in  a  voice  that  was  carried  even  to  his  enemy,  "  Let  fall  — 
out  with  your  booms  —  sheet  home  —  hoist  away  of  every- 
thing!" 

4.  The  inspiring  cry  was  answered  by  a  universal  bustle. 
Fifty  men  flew  out  on  the  dizzy  heights  of  the  different 
spars,  while  broad  sheets  of  canvas  rose  as  suddenly  along 
the  masts,  as  if  some  mighty  bird  were  spreading  its  wings. 
The  Englishman  instantly  perceived  his  mistake,  and  he  an- 
swered the  artifice  by  a  roar  of  artillery.     Griffith  watched 
the  effects  of  the  broadside  with  an  absorbing  interest  as 
the  shot  whistled  above  his  head;  but  when  he  perceived 
his  masts  untouched,  and  the  few  unimportant  ropes,  only, 
that  were  cut,  he  replied  to  the  uproar  with  a  burst  of 
pleasure. 

5.  A  few  men  were,  however,  seen  clinging  with  wild 
frenzy  to  the  cordage,  dropping  from  rope  to  rope,  like 
wounded   birds  fluttering  through  a  tree,  until   they  fell 
heavily  into  the  ocean,  the  sullen  ship  sweeping  by  them 
in  a  cold  indifference.     At  the  next  instant,  the  spars  and 
masts  of  their  enemy  exhibited  a  display  of  men  similar 
to  their  own,  when  Griffith  again  placed  the  trumpet  to 
his  mouth,  and  shouted  aloud,  "Give  it  to  them;  drive 
them  from  their  yards,  boys  ;  scatter  them  with  your  grape ; 
unreeve  their  rigging !  " 

6.  The  crew  of  the  American  wanted  but  little  encour- 
agement to   enter   on   this   experiment  with  hearty   good 
will,  and  the  close  of  his  cheering  words  was  uttered  amid 


298  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

the  deafening  roar  of  his  own  cannon.  The  Pilot  had, 
however,  mistaken  the  skill  and  readiness  of  their  foe ;  for, 
notwithstanding  the  disadvantageous  circumstances  under 
which  the  Englishman  increased  his  sail,  the  duty  was 
steadily  and  dexterously  performed. 

7.  The  two  ships  were  now  running  rapidly  on  parallel 
lines,  hurling  at  each  other  their  instruments  of  destruction 
with  furious  industry,  and  with  severe   and   certain   loss 
to  both,  though  with  no  manifest  advantage  in  favor  of 
either.     Both  Griffith  and  the  Pilot  witnessed,  with  deep 
concern,  this  unexpected  defeat  of  their  hopes;  for  they 
could  not  conceal  from  themselves  that  each  moment  less- 
ened their  velocity  through  the  water,  as  the  shot  of  the 
enemy  stripped  the  canvas  from  the  yards,  or  dashed  aside 
the  lighter  spars  in  their  terrible  progress. 

8.  "  We  find  our  equal  here,"  said  Griffith  to  the  stranger. 
"  The  ninety  is  heaving  up  again  like  a  mountain ;  and  if 
we  continue  to  shorten  sail  at  this  rate,  she  will  soon  be 
down  upon  us ! " 

"You  say  true,  sir,"  returned  the  Pilot,  musing,  "the 
man  shows  judgment  as  well  as  spirit;  but  — " 

9.  He  was  interrupted  by  Merry,  who  rushed  from  the 
forward  part  of  the  vessel,  his  whole  face  betokening  the 
eagerness  of  his  spirit  and  the  importance  of  his  intelli- 
gence. — 

"  The  breakers ! "  he  cried,  when  nigh  enough  to  be  heard 
amid  the  din ;  "  we  are  running  dead  on  a  ripple,  and  the 
sea  is  white  not  two  hundred  yards  ahead." 

10.  The  Pilot  jumped  on  a  gun,  and,  bending  to  catch 
a  glimpse  through  the  smoke,  he  shouted,  in  those  clear, 
piercing  tones,  that  could  be  even  heard  among  the  roar- 
ing of  the  cannon, — 

"Port,  port  your  helm!  we  are  on  the  Devil's  Grip! 
Pass  up  the  trumpet,  sir ;  port  your  helm,  fellow ;  give  it  to 
them,  boys  —  give  it  to  the  proud  English  dogs  ! " 

11.  Griffith  unhesitatingly  relinquished  the  symbol  of  his 


FIFTH    READER.  299 

rank,  fastening  his  own  firm  look  on  the  calm  but  quick 
eye  of  the  Pilot,  and  gathering  assurance  from  the  high 
confidence  he  read  in  the  countenance  of  the  stranger.  The 
seamen  were  too  busy  with  their  cannon  and  the  rigging  to 
regard  the  new  danger ;  and  the  frigate  entered  one  of  the 
dangerous  passes  of  the  shoals,  in  the  heat  of  a  severely 
contested  battle. 

12.  The  wondering  looks  of  a  few  of  the  older  sailors 
glanced  at  the  sheets  of  foam  that  flew  by  them,  in  doubt 
whether  the  wild  gambols  of  the  waves  were  occasioned  by 
the  shot  of  the  enemy,  when  suddenly  the  noise  of  cannon 
was  succeeded  by  the  sullen  wash  of  the  disturbed  element, 
and  presently  the  vessel  glided  out  of  her  smoky  shroud,  and 
was  boldly  steering  in  the  center  of  the  narrow  passages. 

13.  For  ten  breathless  minutes  longer  the  Pilot  continued 
to  hold  an  uninterrupted  sway,  during  which  the  vessel  ran 
swiftly  by  ripples  and  breakers,  by  streaks  of  foam   and 
darker  passages  of  deep  water,  when  he  threw  down  his 
trumpet  and  exclaimed  — 

"  What  threatened  to  be  our  destruction  has  proved  our 
salvation.  —  Keep  yonder  hill  crowned  with  wood  one  point 
open  from  the  church  tower  at  its  base,  and  steer  east  and 
by  north  ;  you  will  run  through  these  shoals  on  that  course 
in  an  hour,  and  by  so  doing  you  will  gain  five  leagues  of 
your  enemy,  who  will  have  to  double  their  trail." 

14.  Every  officer  in  the  ship,  after  the  breathless  suspense 
of  uncertainty  had  passed,  rushed  to  those  places  where  a 
view  might  be  taken  of  their   enemies.     The  ninety  was 
still  steering  boldly  onward,  and  had  already  approached 
the  two-and-thirty,  which  lay  a  helpless  wreck,  rolling  on 
the  unruly  seas  that  were  rudely  tossing  her  on  their  wanton 
billows.     The  frigate  last  engaged  was  running  along  the 
edge  of  the  ripple,  with  her  torn  sails  flying  loosely  in  the 
air,  her   ragged   spars   tottering  in  the  breeze,  and  every- 
thing above  her  hull  exhibiting  the  confusion  of  a  sudden 
and  unlooked-for  check  to  her  progress. 


300  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

15.  The  exulting  taunts  and  mirthful  congratulations  of 
the  seamen,  as  they  gazed  at  the  English  ships,  were,  how- 
ever, soon  forgotten  in  the  attention  that  was  required  to 
their  own  vessel.     The   drums  beat  the  retreat,  the  guns 
were  lashed,  the  wounded  again  removed,  and  every  indi- 
vidual  able  to  keep  the   deck   was   required  to  lend  his 
assistance  in  repairing  the   damages   to   the   frigate,  and 
securing  her  masts. 

16.  The  promised  hour  carried  the  ship  safely  through 
all  the   dangers,  which  were  much  lessened  by  daylight; 
and  by  the  time  the  sun  had  begun  to  fall  over  the  land, 
Griffith,  who  had  not  quitted   the   deck   during  the  day, 
beheld  his  vessel  once  more  cleared  of  the  confusion  of  the 
chase  and  battle,  and  ready  to  meet  another  foe. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Frig' ate,  a  war  vessel,  usually  carrying  from 
twenty-eight  to  forty-four  guns,  arranged  in  two  tiers  on  each  side. 
Eq'ui-page  (pro.  ek'wi-paj),  furniture,  jilting  out.  4.  Ar'ti-fi9e, 
skillful  contrivance,  trick.  Broad'slde,  a  discharge  of  all  the  guns  on 
one  side  of  a  ship,  above  and  below,  at  the  same  time.  7.  Man'i-fest, 
visible  to  the  eye,  apparent.  11.  As-sur'an^e  (pro.  a-shur'ans),  full 
confidence,  courage.  13.  Sway,  control,  rule. 

NOTES.  —  2.  The  Pilot,  who  appears  in  this  story,  under  disguise, 
is  John  Paul  Jones,  a  celebrated  American  naval  officer  during  the 
Revolution.  He  was  born  in  Scotland,  in  1747,  and  was  appren- 
ticed when  only  twelve  years  old  as  a  sailor.  He  was  familiar 
with  the  waters  about  the  British  Islands,  and  during  part  of  the 
war  he  hovered  about  their  coasts  in  a  daring  way,  capturing 
many  vessels,  often  against  heavy  odds,  and  causing  great  terror 
to  the  enemy. 

8.  The  ninety,  refers  to  a  large  ninety-gun  ship,  part  of  a  fleet 
which  was  chasing  the  American  vessel. 

10.  The  Devil 's  Grip;  the  name  of  a  dangerous  reef  in  the 
English  Channel. 

13.  One  point  open.      Directions  for  steering,  referring  to  the 
compass. 

14.  The  two-and-thirty ;  i.e.,  another  of  the  enemy's  ships,  carry- 
ing thirty-two  guns. 


FIFTH    READER.  301 


C.    BURIAL  OF   SIB    JOHN   MOORE. 

Charles  Wolfe  (&.  1791,  d.  1823),  an  Irish  poet  and  clergyman,  was 
born  in  Dublin.  He  was  educated  in  several  schools,  and  graduated  at  the 
university  of  his  native  city.  He  was  ordained  in  1817,  and  soon  became 
noted  for  his  zeal  and  energy  as  a  clergyman.  His  literary  productions 
were  collected  and  published  in  1825.  "  The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore," 
one  of  the  finest  poems  of  its  kind  in  the  English  language,  was  written 
in  1817,  and  first  appeared  in  the  "  Newry  Telegraph,"  a  newspaper,  with 
the  author's  initials,  but  without  his  knowledge.  Byron  said  of  this 
ballad  that  he  would  rather  be  the  author  of  it  than  of  any  one  ever 
written. 

1.  NOT  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 

As  his  corse  to  the  rampart  we  hurried; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we  buried. 

2.  We  buried  him  darkly,  at  dead  of  night, 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning, 
By  the  struggling  moonbeam's  misty  light, 
And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

3.  No  useless  coffin  inclosed  his  breast, 

Not  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud  we  wound  him; 
But  he  lay  like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest, 
With  his  martial  cloak  around  him. 


4.  Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 

And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow; 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead,. 
And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 

5.  We  thought,  as  we  hollowed  his  narrow  bed, 

And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow, 
That  the   foe   and   the   stranger  would  tread    o'ei 

his  head, 
And  we  far  away  on  the  billow! 


302  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

6.  Lightly  they'll  talk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone 

And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him; 
But  little  he'll  reck,  if  they'll  let  him  sleep  on 
In  a  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him. 

7.  But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done, 

When  the  clock  struck  the  hour  for  retiring 
And  we  heard  the  distant  random  gun 
That  the  foe  was  sullenly  firing. 

8.  Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame,  fresh  and  gory; 
We  carved  not  a  line,  we  raised  not  a  stone, 
But  we  left  him  alone  with  his  glory! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  3.  Mar'tial  (pro.  mar'shal),  military.  6.  Up- 
braid', to  charge  with  something  wrong  or  disgraceful,  to  reproach. 
Reck,  to  take  heed,  to  care.  7.  Ran'dom,  without  fixed  aim  or  pur- 
pose, left  to  chance. 

NOTE.  —  Sir  John  Moore  (b.  1761,  d.  1809)  was  a  celebrated 
British  general.  He  was  appointed  commander  of  the  British 
forces  in  Spain,  in  the  war  against  Napoleon,  and  fell  at  the 
battle  of  Corunna,  by  a  cannon  shot.  Marshal  Soult,  the  oppos- 
ing French  commander,  caused  a  monument  to  be  erected  to  his 
memory.  The  British  government  has  also  raised  a  monument 
to  him  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  while  his  native  city,  Glasgow, 
honors  him  with  a  bronze  statue. 


CI.    LITTLE  VICTORIES. 

1.  "0  MOTHER,  now  that  I  have  lost  my  limb,  I  can 
never  be  a  soldier  or  a  sailor ;  I  can  never  go  round  the 
world!"  And  Hugh  burst  into  tears,  now  more  really 
afflicted  than  he  had  ever  been  yet.  His  mother  sat  on 
the  bed  beside  him,  and  wiped  away  his  tears  as  they 


FIFTH    READER.  303 

flowed,  while  he  told  her,  as  well  as  his  sobs  would  let 
him,  how  long  and  how  much  he  had  reckoned  on  going 
round  the  world,  and  how  little  he  cared  for  anything  else 
in  future  ;  and  now  this  was  the  very  thing  he  should  never 
be  able  to  do ! 

2.  He   had   practiced   climbing   ever  since  he  could  re- 
member, and  now  this  was   of  no  use;   he  had  practiced 
marching,  and  now  he  should  never  march  again.     When 
he  had  finished  his  complaint,  there  was  a  pause,  and  his 
mother  said, 

"  Hugh,  you  have  heard  of  Huber  ?  " 

"The  man  who  found  out  so  much  about  bees?"  said 
Hugh. 

"Bees  and  ants.  When  Huber  had  discovered  more 
than  had  ever  been  known  about  these,  and  when  he  was 
sure  that  he  could  learn  still  more,  and  was  more  and  more 
anxious  to  peep  into  their  tiny  homes  and  curious  ways, 
he  became  blind." 

3.  Hugh  sighed,  and  his  mother  went  on. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Beethoven  ?  He  was  one  of  the 
greatest  musical  composers  that  ever  lived.  His  great,  his 
sole  delight  was  in  music.  It  was  the  passion  of  his  life. 
When  all  his  time  and  all  his  mind  were  given  to  music, 
he  suddenly  became  deaf,  perfectly  deaf ;  so  that  he  never 
more  heard  one  single  note  from  the  loudest  orchestra. 
While  crowds  were  moved  and  delighted  with  his  compo- 
sitions, it  was  all  silence  to  him."  Hugh  said  nothing. 

4.  "Now  do  you  think,"  asked  his  mother  —  and  Hugh 
saw  that  a  mild  and  gentle  smile  beamed  from  her  counte- 
nance—  "do  you  think  that  these  people  were  without  a 
Heavenly  Parent  ?  " 

"  O  no  !  but  were  they  patient  ?  "  asked  Hugh. 

"  Yes,  in  their  different  ways  and  degrees.  Would  you 
suppose  that  they  were  hardly  treated  ?  Or  would  you  not 
rather  suppose  that  their  Father  gave  them  something 
better  to  do  than  they  had  planned  for  themselves  ?  " 


304  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

5.  "He  must  know  best,  of  course;   but  it  does  seem 
very  hard  that  that  very  thing   should  happen  to  them. 
Huber  would  not  have  so  much  minded  being  deaf,  per- 
haps ;  or  that  musical  man,  being  blind. 

"No  doubt  their  hearts  often  swelled  within  them  at 
their  disappointments ;  but  I  fully  believe  that  they  very 
soon  found  God's  will  to  be  wiser  than  their  wishes.  They 
found,  if  they  bore  their  trial  well,  that  there  was  work 
for  their  hearts  to  do  far  nobler  than  any  the  head  could 
do  through  the  eye  or  the  ear.  And  they  soon  felt  a  new 
and  delicious  pleasure  which  none  but  the  bitterly  disap- 
pointed can  feel." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

6.  "  The  pleasure  of  rousing  the  soul  to  bear  pain,  and 
of  agreeing  with  God  silently,  when  nobody  knows  what  is 
in  the  breast.     There  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of  exercising 
one's  soul  in  bearing  pain,  and  of  finding  one's  heart  glow 
with  the  hope  that  one  is  pleasing  God." 

«  Shall  I  feel  that  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Often  and  often,  I  have  no  doubt ;  every  time  you  can 
willingly  give  up  your  wish  to  be  a  soldier  or  a  sailor,  or 
anything  else  you  have  set  your  mind  upon,  you  will  feel 
that  pleasure.  But  I  do  not  expect  it  of  you  yet.  I  dare 
say  it  was  long  a  bitter  thing  to  Beethoven  to  see  hundreds 
of  people  in  raptures  with  his  music,  when  he  could  not 
hear  a  note  of  it." 

7.  "  But  did  he  ever  smile  again  ?  "  asked  Hugh. 

"  If  he  did,  he  was  happier  than  all  the  fine  music  in  the 
world  could  have  made  him,"  replied  his  mother. 
"  I  wonder,  oh,  I  wonder,  if  I  shall  ever  feel  so ! " 
"We  will   pray  to  God  that  you  may.      Shall  we   ask 
him  now  ?  "     Hugh  clasped  his  hands.     His  mother  kneeled 
beside  the   bed,   and,   in   a  very  few  words,  prayed  that 
Hugh  might  be  able  to  bear  his  misfortune  well,  and  that 
his  friends  might  give  him  such  help  and  comfort  as  God 
should  approve. 


FIFTH   READER.  305 

8.  Hugh  found  himself  subject  to  very  painful  feelings 
sometimes,  such  as  no  one  quite  understood,  and  such  as  he 
feared  no  one  was  able  to  pity  as  they  deserved.     On  one 
occasion,  when  he  had  been  quite  merry  for  a  while,  and 
his  mother  and  his  sister  Agnes  were  chatting,- they  thought 
they  heard  a  sob  from  the  sofa.     They  spoke  to  Hugh,  and 
found  that  he  was  indeed  crying  bitterly. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  "  said  his  mother.     "  Agnes,  have 
we  said  anything  that  could  hurt  his  feelings  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  sobbed  Hugh.     "  I  will  tell  you,  presently." 

9.  And,  presently,  he  told  them   that  he  was  so  busy 
listening  to  what  they  said  that  he  forgot  everything  else, 
when  he  felt  as  if  something  had  gotten  between  two  of  his 
toes;   unconsciously  he  put  down  his  hand  as  if  his  foot 
were  there !     Nothing  could  be  plainer  than  the  feeling  in 
his  toes ;  and  then,  when  he  put  out  his  hand,  and  found 
nothing,  it  was  so  terrible,  it  startled  him  so!     It  was  a 
comfort  to  find  that  his  mother  knew  about  this.      She 
came,  and  kneeled  by  his   sofa,  and  told  him  that  many 
persons  who  had  lost  a  limb  considered  this  the  most  pain 
ful  thing  they  had  to  bear  for  some  time ;  but  that,  though 
the  feeling  would  return  occasionally  through  life,  it  would 
cease  to  be  painful. 

10.  Hugh  was  very  much  dejected,  and  when  he  thought 
of  the  months  and  years  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  that  he 
should  never  run  and  play,  and  never  be  like  other  people, 
he  almost  wished  that  he  were  dead. 

Agnes  thought  that  he  must  be  miserable  indeed  if  he 
could  venture  to  say  this  to  his  mother.  She  glanced  at 
her  mother's  face,  but  there  was  no  displeasure  there.  On 
the  contrary,  she  said  this  feeling  was  very  natural.  She 
had  felt  it  herself  under  smaller  misfortunes  than  Hugh's ; 
but  she  had  found,  though  the  prospect  appeared  all  strewn 
with  troubles,  that  they  came  singly,  and  were  not  so  hard 
to  bear,  after  all. 

11.  She  told  Hugh  that  when  she  was  a  little  girl  she 

(5.— 20.) 


806  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

was  very  lazy,  fond  of  her  bed,  and  not  at  all  fond  of 
dressing  or  washing. 

"  Why,  mother !  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Hugh. 

"Yes;  that  was  the  sort  of  little  girl  I  was.  Well,  1 
was  in  despair,  one  day,  at  the  thought  that  I  should  have 
to  wash,  and  clean  my  teeth,  and  brush  my  hair,  and  put  on 
every  article  of  dress,  every  morning,  as  long  as  I  lived." 

"Did  you  teU  anybody  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

12.  "  No,  I  was  ashamed  to  do  that ;  but  I  remember  I 
cried.     You  see  how  it  turns  out.     When  we  have  become 
accustomed  to  anything,  we  do  it  without  ever  thinking 
of  the  trouble,  and,  as  the  old  fable  tells  us,  the  clock 
that  has  to  tick  so  many  millions  of  times,  has  exactly  the 
same  number  of  seconds  to  do  it  in.     So  will  you  find  that 
you  can  move  about  on  each  separate  occasion,  as  you  wish, 
and  practice  will  enable  you  to  do  it  without  any  trouble 
or  thought." 

"  But  this  is  not  all,  nor  half  what  I  mean,"  said  Hugh. 

13.  "  No,  my  dear,  nor  half  what  you  will  have  to  bear. 
You  resolved  to  bear  it  all  patiently,  I  remember.     But 
what  is  it  you  dread  the  most  ?  " 

"Oh!  all  manner  of  things.  I  can  never  do  like  other 
people." 

"Some  things,"  replied  his  mother.  "You  can  never 
play  cricket,  as  every  Crofton  boy  would  like  to  do.  You 
can  never  dance  at  your  sister's  Christmas  parties." 

14.  "  0  mamma ! "  cried  Agnes,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
and  with  the  thought  in  her  mind  that  it  was  cruel  to  talk 
so. 

"Go  on!  Go  on!"  cried  Hugh,  brightening.  "You 
know  what  I  feel,  mother ;  and  you  don't  keep  telling  me, 
as  others  do,  and  even  sister  Agnes,  sometimes,  that  it  will 
not  signify  much,  and  that  I  shall  not  care,  and  all  that ; 
making  out  that  it  is  no  misfortune,  hardly,  when  I  know 
what  it  is,  and  they  don't.  Now,  then,  go  on,  mother! 
What  else?" 


FIFTH    READER.  307 

15.  "  There  will  be  little  checks  and  mortifications  con- 
tinually, when  you  see  little  boys  leaping  over  this,  and 
climbing  that,  and  playing  at  the  other,  while  you   must 
stand  out,  and  can  only  look  on     And  some  people  will 
pity  you  in  a  way  you  will  not  like :  and  some  may  even 
laugh  at  you." 

"  0  mamma ! "  exclaimed  Agnes. 
"  Well,  and  what  else  ?  "  said  Hugh. 

16.  "  Sooner  or  later  you  will  have  to  follow  some  way 
of  life  determined  by  this  accident  instead  of  one  that  you 
would  have  liked  better." 

"Well,  what  else?" 

"  I  must  ask  you,  now.  I  can  think  of  nothing  more ; 
and  I  hope  there  is  not  much  else ;  for,  indeed,  I  think 
here  is  quite  enough  for  a  boy,  or  anyone  else,  to  bear." 

"  I  will  bear  it  though ;  you  will  see." 

17.  "You  will  find  great  helps.     These  misfortunes  of 
themselves  strengthen  one's  mind.     They  have  some  advan- 
tages too.     You  will  be  a  better  scholar  for  your  lameness, 
I  have  no  doubt.     You  will  read  more  books,  and  have  a 
mind  richer  in  thoughts.     You  will  be  more  beloved  by  us 
all,  and  you  yourself  will  love  God  more  for  having  given 
you  something  to  bear  for  his  sake.     God  himself  will  help 
you  to  bear  your  trials.     You  will  conquer  your  troubles 
one  by  one,  and  by  a  succession  of  LITTLE  VICTORIES  will 
at  last  completely  triumph  over  all." 

—  Harriet  Martineau. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Af-fltet'ed,  overwhelmed,  dejected.  Reck'- 
oned,  calculated,  counted.  3.  Com-pog'er,  an  author  of  a  piece  of 
music.  Or'ehes-tra,  a  body  of  instrumental  musicians.  7.  Ap- 
prove', sanction,  allow.  10.  De-jeet'ed,  discouraged,  low-spirited. 

NOTES.  —  2.  Francois  Huber  (b.  1750,  d.  1831)  was  a  Swiss  nat- 
uralist. He  became  blind  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  but  pursued  his 
studies  by  the  aid  of  his  "wife  and  an  attendant. 

2.  Ludwig  van  Beethoven  (pro.  ba'to-ven ;  b.  1770,  d.  1827)  was 
at  Bonn,  Prussia,  but  passed  most  of  his  life  at  Vienna. 


308  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


OH.    THE  CHARACTER  OF  A  HAPPY  LIFE. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  (6.  1568,  d.  1639)  was  born  at  Bocton  Hall,  Kent, 
England.  He  was  educated  at  Winchester  and  Oxford.  About  1598  he  was 
taken  into  the  service  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  as  one  of  his  secretaries.  On 
the  Earl's  committal  to  the  Tower  for  treason,  Wottoii  fled  to  France ;  but 
he  returned  to  England  immediately  after  the  death  of  Elizabeth,  and 
received  the  honor  of  knighthood.  He  was  King  James's  favorite  diplo- 
matist, and,  in  1623,  was  appointed  provost  of  Eton  College.  Wotton 
wrote  a  number  of  prose  works ;  but  his  literary  reputation  rests  mainly/ 
on  some  short  poems,  which  are  distinguished  oy  a  dignity  of  thought 
and  expression  rarely  excelled. 

1.  How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught, 

That  serveth  not  another's  will; 
Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill! 


2.  Whose  passions  not  his  masters  are, 

Whose  soul  is  still  prepared  for  death, 
Untied  unto  the  worldly  care 

Of  public  fame,  or  private  breath  j 

3.  Who  envies  none  that  chance  doth  raise, 

Or  vice;    who  never  understood 
How  deepest  wounds  are  given  by  praise; 
Nor  rules  of  state,  but  rules  of  good: 

4.  Who  hath  his  life  from  rumors  freed, 

Whose  conscience  is  his  strong  retreat; 
Whose  state  can  neither  flatterers  feed, 
Nor  ruin  make  oppressors  great; 

6.  Who  God  doth  late  and  early  pray, 

More  of  his  grace  than  gifts  to  lend; 
And  entertains  the  harmless  day 
With  a  religious  book  or  friend 


FIFTH    READER.  309 

6.   This  man  is  freed  from  servile  bands, 

Of  hope  to  rise,  or  fear  to  fall; 
Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands ; 
And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all. 


CHI.    THE  ART  OP  DISCOURAGEMENT. 

Arthur  Helps  (6. 1813,  d.  1875)  graduated  at  Cambridge,  England,  in 
1835.  His  best  known  works  are:  "  Friends  in  Council,  a  Series  of  Read- 
ings and  Discourses,"  "  Companions  of  my  Solitude,"  and  "Realmah,"  a 
tale  of  the  "  lake  dwellers  "  in  southern  Europe.  He  has  also  written  a 
"  History  of  the  Spanish  Conquests  in  America,"  two  historical  dramas, 
and  several  other  works.  Mr.  Helps  was  a  true  thinker,  and  his  writings 
are  deservedly  popular  with  thoughtful  readers.  In  1859  he  was  appointed 
secretary  of  the  privy  council. 

1.  REGARDING,  one  day,  in  company  with  a  humorous 
friend,  a  noble  vessel  of  a  somewhat  novel  construction  sail- 
ing slowly  out  of  port,  he  observed,  "  What  a  quantity  of 
cold  water  somebody  must  have  had  down  his  back."     In 
my  innocence,  I  supposed  that  he  alluded  to  the  wet  work 
of  the  artisans  who  had  been  building  the  vessel ;  but  when 
I  came  to  know  him  better,  I  found  that  this  was  the  form 
of  comment  he  always  indulged  in  when  contemplating  any 
new  and  great  work,  and  that  his  "  somebody  "  was  the 
designer  of  the  vessel. 

2.  My  friend  had  carefully  studied  the  art  of  discourage- 
ment, and  there  was  a  class  of  men  whom  he  designated 
simply  as  "cold-water  pourers."     It  was  most  amusing  to 
hear  him  describe  the  lengthened  sufferings  of  the  man  who 
first  designed  a  wheel ;  of  him  who  first  built  a  boat ;  of  the 
adventurous  personage  who  first  proposed  the  daring  enter- 
prise of  using  buttons,  instead  of  fish  bones,  to  fasten  the 
scanty  raiment  of  some  savage  tribe. 

3.  Warming  with  his  theme,  he  would  become  quite  elo- 
quent in  describing  the  long  career  of  discouragement  which 


310  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

these  rash  men  had  brought  upon  themselves,  and  which 
he  said,  to  his  knowledge,  must  have  shortened  their  lives. 
He  invented  imaginary  dialogues  between  the  unfortunate 
inventor,  say  of  the  wheel,  and  his  particular  friend,  some 
eminent  cold-water  pourer.  For,  as  he  said,  every  man  has 
some  such  friend,  who  fascinates  him  by  fear,  and  to  whom 
he  confides  his  enterprises  in  order  to  hear  the  worst  that 
can  be  said  of  them. 

4.  The  sayings  of  the  chilling  friend,  probably,  as  he  ob- 
served, ran  thus  :  —  "  We  seem  to  have  gone  on  very  well 
for  thousands  of  years  without  this  rolling  thing.     Your 
father  carried  burdens  on  his  back.     The  king  is  content  to 
be  borne  on  men's  shoulders.     The  high  priest  is  not  too 
proud  to  do  the  same.     Indeed,  I  question  whether  it  is  not 
irreligious  to  attempt  to  shift  from  men's  shoulders  their 
natural  burdens. 

5.  "  Then,  as  to  its  succeeding,  —  for  my  part,  I  see  no 
chance  of  that.     How  can  it  go  up  hill  ?    How  often  you 
have  failed  before  in  other  fanciful  things  of  the   same 
nature !     Besides,  you  are  losing  your  time ;  and  the  yams 
about  your  hut  are  only  half  planted.     You  will  be  a  beg- 
gar ;  and  it  is  my  duty,  as  a  friend,  to  tell  you  so  plainly. 

6.  "  There  was  Nang-chung  :  what  became  of  him  ?    We 
had  found  fire  for  ages,  in  a  proper  way,  taking  a  proper 
time  about  it,  by  rubbing  two  sticks  together.     He  must 
needs  strike  out  fire  at  once,  with  iron  and  flint ;  and  did 
he  die  in  his  bed?     Our  sacred  lords  saw  the  impiety  of 
that  proceeding,  and  very  justly  impaled  the  man  who  imi- 
tated heavenly  powers.     And,  even  if  you  could  succeed 
with  this  new  and  absurd  rolling  thing,  the  state  would  be 
ruined.     What  would  become  of  those  who  carry  burdens 
on  their  backs  ?    Put  aside  the  vain  fancies  of  a  childish 
mind,  and  finish  the  planting  of  your  yams." 

7.  It  is  really  very  curious  to  observe  how,  even  in  mod- 
ern times,  the  arts  of  discouragement  prevail.     There  are 
men  whose  sole  pretense  to  wisdom  consists  in  administering 


FIFTH    READER.  311 

discouragement.  They  are  never  at  a  loss.  They  are 
equally  ready  to  prophesy,  with  wonderful  ingenuity,  all 
possible  varieties  of  misfortune  to  any  enterprise  that  may 
be  proposed  ;  and  when  the  thing  is  produced,  and  has  met 
with  some  success,  to  find  a  flaw  in  it. 

8.  I  once  saw  a  work  of  art  produced  in  the  presence  of 
an  eminent  cold-water  pourer.     He   did  not   deny  that  it 
was  beautiful ;  but  he  instantly  fastened  upon  a  small  crack 
in  it  that  nobody  had  observed;  and  upon  that  crack  he 
would  dilate  whenever  the  work  was  discussed  in  his  pres- 
ence.    Indeed,  he  did  not  see  the  work,  but  only  the  crack 
in  it.     That  flaw,  —  that  little  flaw,  —  was  all  in  all  to  him. 

9.  The  cold-water  pourers   are   not  all  of  one  form  of 
mind.     Some  are  led  to  indulge  in  this  recreation  from  gen- 
uine timidity.     They  really  do  fear  that  all  new  attempts 
will  fail.    Others  are  simply  envious  and  ill-natured.    Then, 
again,  there  is  a  sense  of  power  and  wisdom  in  prophesying 
evil.      Moreover,  it  is  the  safest  thing  to  prophesy,  for 
hardly  anything  at  first  succeeds  exactly  in  the  way  that  it 
was  intended  to  succeed. 

10.  Again,  there  is  the  lack  of  imagination  which  gives 
rise  to  the  utterance  of  so  much  discouragement.     For  an 
ordinary  man,  it  must  have  been  a  great  mental  strain  to 
grasp  the  ideas  of  the  first  projectors  of  steam  and  gas,  elec- 
tric telegraphs,  and  pain-deadening  chloroform.     The  in- 
ventor is  always,  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-men,  somewhat 
of  a  madman ;  and  often  they  do  their  best  to  make  him  so. 

11.  Again,  there  is  the  want  of  sympathy;  and  that  is, 
perhaps,  the  ruling  cause  in  most  men's  minds  who  have 
given  themselves  up  to  discourage.     They  are  not  tender 
enough,  or  sympathetic  enough,  to  appreciate  all  the  pain 
they  are  giving,  when,  in  a  dull  plodding  way,  they  lay  out 
argument  after  argument  to  show  that  the  project  which 
the  poor  inventor  has  set  his  heart  upon,  and  upon  which, 
perhaps,  he  has  staked  his  fortune,  will  not  succeed. 

12.  But  what  inventors  suffer,  is  only  a  small  part  ol 


312  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

what  mankind  in  general  endure  from  thoughtless  and 
unkind  discouragement.  Those  high-souled  men  belong  to 
the  suffering  class,  and  must  suffer ;  but  it  is  in  daily  life 
that  the  wear  and  tear  of  discouragement  tells  so  much. 
Propose  a  small  party  of  pleasure  to  an  apt  discourager, 
and  see  what  he  will  make  of  it.  It  soon  becomes  sicklied 
over  with  doubt  and  despondency;  and,  at  last,  the  only 
hope  of  the  proposer  is,  that  his  proposal,  when  realized, 
will  not  be  an  ignominious  failure.  All  hope  of  pleasure,  at 
least  for  the  proposer,  has  long  been  out  of  the  question. 

DEFINITIONS. — 2.  Des'ig-nat-ed,  called  by  a  distinctive  title, 
named.  5.  Yam,  the  root  of  a  climbing  plant,  found  in  the  tropics, 
which  is  used  for  food.  6.  Im-paled',  put  to  death  by  being  fixed  on 
an  upright,  sharp  stake.  8.  Di-late',  to  speak  largely,  to  dwell  in 
narration.  10.  Rise  {pro.  ris,  not  riz),  source,  origin.  Projee'tor, 
one  who  forms  a  scheme  or  design. 


CIV.    THE  MARINER'S  DREAM, 

William  Dimond  (&.  1780,  d.  1837)  was  a  dramatist  and  poet,  living  at 
Bath,  England,  where  he  was  born  and  received  his  education.  He  after- 
wards studied  for  the  bar  in  London.  His  literary  productions  are  for  the 
most  part  dramas,  but  he  has  also  written  a  number  of  poems,  among 
them  the  following: 


1.  IN  slumbers  of  midnight  the  sailor  boy  lay  ; 

His  hammock  swung  loose  at  the  sport  of  the  wind ; 
But  watch-worn  and  weary,  his  cares  flew  away, 
And  visions  of  happiness  danced  o'er  his  mind. 

2.  He  dreamed  of  his  home,  of  his  dear  native  bowers, 

And  pleasures  that  waited  on  life's  merry  morn ; 
While  Memory  each  scene  gayly  covered  with  flowers, 
And  restored  every  rose,  but  secreted  the  thorn. 


FIFTH   READER.  313 

3.  Then  Fancy  her  magical  pinions  spread  wide, 

And  bade  the  young  dreamer  in  ecstasy  rise; 
Now,  far,  far  behind  him  the  green  waters  glide, 
And  the  cot  of  his  forefathers  blesses  his  eyes. 

4.  The  jessamine  clambers  in  flowers  o'er  the  thatch, 

And  the  swallow  chirps  sweet  from  her  nest  in  the  wall ; 
All  trembling  with  transport,  he  raises  the  latch, 
And  the  voices  of  loved  ones  reply  to  his  call. 

5.  A  father  bends  o'er  him  with  looks  of  delight; 

His  cheek  is  impearled  with  a  mother's  warm  tear; 
And  the  lips  of  the  boy  in  a  love  kiss  unite 

With  the  lips  of  the  maid  whom  his  bosom  holds  dear. 

6.  The  heart  of  the  sleeper  beats  high  in  his  breast; 

Joy  quickens  his  pulses,  —  all  his  hardships  seem  o'er ; 

And  a  murmur  of  happiness  steals  through  his  rest, — 

"0  God!  thou  hast  blest  me,  —  I  ask  for  no  more." 

7.  Ah !   whence  is  that  flame  which  now  bursts  on  his  eye  ? 

Ah!   what  is  that  sound  that  now  'larums  his  ear? 
'T  is  the  lightning's  red  glare  painting  hell  on  the  sky ! 
?T  is  the  crashing  of  thunders,  the  groan  of  the  sphere ! 

8.  He  springs  from  his  hammock, — he  flies  to  the  deck; 

Amazement  confronts  him  with  images  dire; 
Wild  winds  and  mad  waves  drive  the  vessel  a  wreck ; 
The  masts  fly  in  splinters;   the  shrouds  are  on  fire. 

9.  Like  mountains  the  billows  tremendously  swell; 

In  vain  the  lost  wretch  calls  on  Mercy  to  save; 
Unseen  hands  of  spirits  are  ringing  his  knell, 

And  the  death  angel  flaps  his  broad  wings  o'er  the  wave  I 


314  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

10.  0  sailor  boy,  woe  to  thy  dream  of  delight! 

In  darkness  dissolves  the  gay  frostwork  of  bliss! 
Where  now  is  the  picture  that  Fancy  touched  bright,  — 
Thy  parents'  fond  pressure,  and  love's  honeyed  kiss  ? 

11.  0  sailor  boy !   sailor  boy !   never  again 

Shall  home,  love,  or  kindred,  thy  wishes  repay; 
Unblessed  and  unhonored,  down  deep  in  the  main, 
Full  many  a  fathom,  thy  frame  shall  decay. 

12.  No  tomb  shall  e'er  plead  to  remembrance  for  thee, 

Or  redeem  form  or  fame  from  the  merciless  surge ; 
But  the  white  foam  of  waves  shall  thy  winding  sheet  be, 
And  winds  in  the  midnight  of  winter  thy  dirge. 

13.  On  a  bed  of  green  sea  flowers  thy  limbs  shall  be  laid,  — 

Around  thy  white  bones  the  red  coral   shall  grow; 
Of  thy  fair  yellow  locks  threads  of  amber  be  made, 
And  every  part  suit  to  thy  mansion  below. 

14.  Days,  months,  years,  and  ages  shall  circle  away, 

And  still  the  vast  waters  above  thee  shall  roll; 
Earth  loses  thy  pattern  forever  and  aye; 

0  sailor  boy !   sailor  boy !   peace  to  thy  soul ! 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Ham'mock,  a  hanging  or  swinging  bed,  usu- 
ally made  of  netting  or  hempen  cloth.  4.  Trans'port,  ecstasy,  rap- 
ture. 5.  Im-pearled'  (pro.  im-perled'),  decorated  with  pearls,  or 
with  things  resembling  pearls.  7.  'Lar'um§  (an  abbreviation  of 
alarums,  for  alarms),  affrights,  terrifies.  12.  Dirge,  funeral  music. 

NOTES.  — 13.  Coral  is  the  solid  part  of  a  minute  sea  animal, 
corresponding  to  the  bones  in  other  animals.  It  grows  in  many 
fantastic  shapes,  and  is  of  various  colors. 

Amber  is  a  yellow  resin,  and  is  the  fossilized  gum  of  buried 
trees.  It  is  mined  in  several  localities  in  Europe  and  America; 
it  is  also  found  along  the  seacoast,  washed  up  by  the  waves. 


FIFTH    READER.  315 


CV.     THE   PASSENGER  PIGEON. 

John  James  Audubon  (6.  1780,  d.  1851).  This  celebrated  American 
ornithologist  was  born  in  Louisiana.  When  quite  young  he  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  birds,  and  took  delight  in  studying  their  habits.  In  1797 
his  father,  an  admiral  in  the  French  navy,  sent  him  to.  Paris  to  be  edu- 
cated. On  his  return  to  America,  he  settled  on  a  farm  in  eastern  Penn- 
sylvania, but  afterwards  removed  to  Henderson,  Ky.,  where  he  resided 
several  years,  supporting  his  family  by  trade,  but  devoting  most  of  his 
time  to  the  pursuit  of  his  favorite  study.  In  1826  he  went  to  England, 
and  commenced  the  publication  of  the  "Birds  of  America,"  which  con-' 
sists  of  ten  volumes  —  five  of  engravings  of  birds,  natural  size,  and  five  of 
letterpress.  Cuvier  declares  this  work  to  be  "the  most  magnificent 
monument  that  art  has  ever  erected  to  ornithology."  In  1830  Audubon 
returned  to  America,  and  soon  afterwards  made  excursions  into  nearly 
every  section  of  the  United  States  and  Canada.  A  popular  edition  of  his 
great  work  was  published,  in  seven  volumes,  in  1844,  and  "  The  Quadru- 
peds of  America,"  in  six  volumes,  —  three  of  plates  and  three  of  letter- 
press, in  1846-50.  He  removed  to  the  vicinity  of  New  York  about  1840, 
and  resided  there  until  his  death. 

1.  THE  multitudes  of  wild  pigeons  in  our  woods  are  as- 
tonishing.    Indeed,  after  having  viewed  them  so  often,  and 
under  so  many  circumstances,  I  even  now  feel  inclined  to 
pause  and  assure  myself  that  what  I  am  going  to  relate  is 
a  fact.     Yet  I  have  seen  it  all,  and  that,  too,  in  the  com- 
pany of  persons  who,  like  myself,  were  struck  with  amaze- 
ment. 

2.  In  the  autumn  of  1813  I  left  my  house  at  Hender- 
son, on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  on  my  way  to  Louisville. 
In  passing  over  the  Barrens,  a  few  miles  beyond  Hardins- 
burgh,  I   observed  the   pigeons  flying,  from  northeast  to' 
southwest,  in  greater  numbers  than  I  thought  I  had  ever 
seen  them  before,  and  feeling  an  inclination  to  count  the 
flocks  that  might  pass  within  the  reach  of  my  eye  in  one 
hour,  I  dismounted,  seated  myself  on  an  eminence,  and  be- 
gan to  mark  with  my  pencil,  making  a  dot  for  every  flock 
that  passed. 

3.  In  a  short  time,  finding  the  task  which  I  had  under- 
taken  impracticable,  as  the  birds   poured  in  in  countless 
multitudes,  I  rose,  and,  counting  the  dots  then  put  down, 


316  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

found  that  one  hundred  and  sixty-three  had  been  made 
in  twenty-one  minutes.  I  traveled  on,  and  still  met  more 
the  farther  I  proceeded.  The  air  was  literally  filled  with 
pigeons ;  the  light  of  noonday  was  obscured  as  by  an 
eclipse ;  and  the  continued  buzz  of  wings  had  a  tendency 
to  lull  my  senses  to  repose. 

4.  Whilst  waiting  for  dinner  at  Young's  inn,  at  the  con- 
fluence of  Salt  Eiver  with  the  Ohio,  I  saw,  at  my  leisure, 
immense  legions  still  going  by,  with  a  front  reaching  far 
beyond  the  Ohio  on  the  west,  and  the  beech  wood  forests 
directly  on  the  east  of  me.     Not  a  single  bird  alighted,  for 
not  a  nut  or  acorn  was  that  year  to  be  seen  in  the  neigh- 
borhood.    They  consequently  flew  so  high  that   different 
trials  to  reach  them  with  a  capital  rifle  proved  ineffectual ; 
nor  did  the  reports  disturb  them  in  the  least. 

5.  I  can  not  describe  to  you  the  extreme  beauty  of  their 
aerial  evolutions  when  a  hawk  chanced  to  press  upon  the 
rear  of  a  flock.     At  once,  like  a  torrent,  and  with  a  noise 
like   thunder,  they  rushed   into  a  compact  mass,  pressing 
upon  each  other  towards  the  center.     In  these  almost  solid 
masses,  they   darted  forward   in  undulating   and   angular 
lines,  descended  and  swept  close  over  the  earth  with  incon- 
ceivable velocity,  mounted  perpendicularly  so  as  to  resem- 
ble a  vast  column,  and,  when  high,  were  seen  wheeling  and 
twisting  within  their  continued  lines,  which  then  resembled 
the  coils  of  a  gigantic  serpent. 

6.  As  soon  as  the  pigeons  discover  a  sufficiency  of  food 
to  entice  them  to  alight,  they  fly  round  in  circles,  review- 
ing the  country  below.     During  their  evolutions,  on  such 
occasions,  the  dense  mass  which  they  form  exhibits  a  beau- 
tiful appearance,  as  it  changes  its  direction,  now  displaying 
a  glistening  sheet  of  azure,  when  the  backs  of  the  birds 
come  simultaneously  into  view,  and  anon  suddenly  present- 
ing a  mass  of  rich,  deep  purple. 

7.  They  then  pass  lower,  over  the  woods,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment are  lost  among  the  foliage,  but  again  emerge,  and  are 


FIFTH    READER.  317 

seen  gliding  aloft.  They  now  alight;  but  the  next  mo- 
ment, as  if  suddenly  alarmed,  they  take  to  wing,  producing 
by  the  flappings  of  their  wings  a  noise  like  the  roar  of 
distant  thunder,  and  sweep  through  the  forests  to  see  if 
danger  is  near.  Hunger,  however,  soon  brings  them  to  the 
ground. 

8.  When  alighted,  they  are  seen  industriously  throwing 
up  the  withered  leaves  in  quest  of  the  fallen  mast.     The 
rear  ranks  are  continually  rising,  passing   over  the   main 
body,  and  alighting  in  front,  in  such  rapid  succession,  that 
the  whole   flock   seems   still  on   wing.      The   quantity  of 
ground  thus  swept  is  astonishing;  and  so  completely  has 
it  been  cleared  that  the  gleaner  who  might  follow  in  their 
rear  would  find  his  labor  completely  lost. 

9.  On  such  occasions,  when  the  woods   are  filled  with, 
these  pigeons,  they   are  killed  in  immense  numbers,   al- 
though no  apparent  diminution  ensues.     About  the  middle 
of  the  day,  after  their  repast  is  finished,  they  settle  on  the 
trees  to  enjoy  rest  and  digest  their  food.     As  the  sun  be- 
gins to  sink  beneath  the  horizon,  they  depart  en  masse  for 
the  roosting  place,  which  not  unfrequently  is  hundreds  of 
miles  distant,  as  has  been  ascertained  by  persons  who  have 
kept  an  account  of  their  arrivals  and  departures. 

10.  Let  us  now  inspect  their  place  of  nightly  rendezvous. 
One  of  these  curious  roosting  places,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Green  Eiver,  in  Kentucky,  I  repeatedly  visited.     It  was, 
as  is  always  the  case,  in  a  portion  of  the  forest  where  the 
trees  were  of  great  magnitude,  and  where  there  was  little 
underwood.     I  rode  through  it  upwards  of  forty  miles,  and, 
crossing  it  in  different  parts,  found  its  average  breadth  to 
be  rather  more  than  three  miles.     My  first  view  of  it  was 
about  a  fortnight  subsequent  to  the  period  when  they  had 
made  choice  of  it,  and  I  arrived  there  nearly  two  hours 
before  sunset. 

11.  Many  trees,  two  feet  in  diameter,  I  observed,  were 
broken  off  at  no  great  distance  from  the  ground ;   and  the 


818  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

branches  of  many  of  the  largest  and  tallest  had  given  way, 
as  if  the  forest  had  been  swept  by  a  tornado.  Everything 
proved  to  me  that  the  number  of  birds  resorting  to  this 
part  of  the  forest  must  be  immense  beyond  conception. 

12.  As  the  period  of  their  arrival  approached,  their  foes 
anxiously  prepared  to  receive  them.     Some  were  furnished 
with  iron  pots  containing  sulphur,  others  with  torches  of 
pine  knots,  many  with  poles,  and  the  rest  with  guns.     The 
sun  was  lost  to  our  view,  yet  not  a  pigeon  had  arrived. 
Everything  was   ready,  and  all  eyes  were  gazing  on  the 
clear   sky,   which  appeared  in  glimpses   amidst  the   tall 
trees.      Suddenly   there    burst   forth   the    general    cry  of, 
"Here  they  come!" 

13.  The  noise  which  they  made,  though  yet  distant,  re- 
minded me  of  a  hard  gale  at  sea  passing  through  the  rig- 
ging of  a  close-reefed  vessel.     As  the  birds  arrived  and 
passed  over  me,  I  felt  a  current  of  air  that  surprised  me. 
Thousands  were  soon  knocked  down  by  the  pole  men.     The 
birds  continued  to  pour  in.     The  fires  were  lighted,  and  a 
magnificent  as  well  as  wonderful  and  almost  terrifying 
sight  presented  itself. 

14.  The  pigeons,  arriving  by  thousands,  alighted  every- 
where, one  above  another,  until  solid  masses,  as  large  as 
hogsheads,  were  formed  on  the  branches  all  round.     Here 
and  there  the  perches  gave  way  under  the  weight  with  a 
crash,  and  falling  to  the  ground  destroyed  hundreds  of  the 
birds  beneath,  forcing  down  the  dense  groups  with  which 
every  stick  was  loaded.      It  was   a  scene  of  uproar  and 
confusion.      I  found  it  quite  useless  to  speak  or  even   to 
shout  to  those  persons  who  were  nearest  to  me.     Even  the 
reports  of  the  guns  were  seldom  heard,  and  I  was  made 
aware  of  the  firing  only  by  seeing  the  shooters  reloading. 

15.  The  uproar  continued  the  whole   night;   and  as  I 
•was  anxious  to  know  to  what  distance  the  sound  reached, 
I   sent  off  a  man,  accustomed  to  perambulate  the  forest, 
who,  returning  two  hours  afterwards,  informed  me  he  had 


FIFTH    READER.  319 

heard  it  distinctly  when  three  miles  distant  from  the  spot. 
Towards  the  approach  of  day,  the  noise  in  some  measure 
subsided;  long  before  objects  were  distinguishable,  the 
pigeons  began  to  move  off  in  a  direction  quite  different 
from  that  in  wliich  they  had  arrived  the  evening  before, 
and  at  sunrise  all  that  were  able  to  fly  had  disappeared. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  5.  A-e'ri-al,  belonging  or  pertaining  to  the  air. 
6.  A-non',  in  a  short  time,  soon.  8.  Mast,  the  fruit  of  oak  and 
beech  or  other  forest  trees.  10.  Ren'dez-vpus  (pro.  ren'de-voo),  an 
appointed  or  customary  place  of  meeting.  Sub'se-quent,  following 
in  time.  15.  Per-am'bu-late,  to  walk  through. 

NOTES.  —  The  wild  pigeon,  in  common  with  almost  every  va- 
riety of  game,  is  becoming  more  scarce  throughout  the  country 
each  year ;  and  Audubon's  account,  but  for  the  position  he  holds, 
would  in  time,  no  doubt,  be  considered  ridiculous. 

9.  En  masse  (pro.  aN  mas),  a  French  phrase  meaning  in  a 
body. 


CVI.    THE  COUNTRY  LIFR 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard  (6.  1825, )  was  born  at  Hingham, 

Mass.,  but  removed  to  New  York  City  while  quite  young.  His  first 
volume  of  poems,  "Foot-prints,"  appeared  in  1849,  and  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  many  others.  Of  these  may  be  mentioned  "  Songs  of  Sum- 
mer," "Town  and  Country,"  "The  King's  Bell,"  "Abraham  Lincoln" 
(an  ode),  and  the  "  Book  of  the  East,"  from  the  last  of  which  the  follow- 
ing selection  is  abridged.  Mr.  Stoddard 's  verses  are  full  of  genuine  feel- 
ing, and  some  of  them  show  great  poetic  power. 

1.   NOT  what  we  would,  but  what  we  must, 

Makes  up  the  sum  of  living: 
Heaven  is  both  more  and  less  than  just, 

In  taking  and  in  giving. 

Swords  cleave  to  hands  that  sought  the  plow, 
And  laurels  miss  the  soldier's  brow. 


320  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Me,  whom  the  city  holds,  whose  feet 

Have  worn  its  stony  highways, 
Familiar  with  its  loneliest  street,  — 

Its  ways  were  never  my  ways. 
My  cradle  was  beside  the  sea, 
And  there,  I  hope,  my  grave  will  be. 

3.  Old  homestead!   in  that  old  gray  town 

Thy  vane  is  seaward  blowing; 
Thy  slip  of  garden  stretches  down 

To  where  the  tide  is  flowing; 
Below  they  lie,  their  sails  all  furled, 
The  ships  that  go  about  the  world. 

4.  Dearer  that  little  country  house, 

Inland  with  pines  beside  it; 
Some  peach  trees,  with  unfruitful  boughs, 

A  well,  with  weeds  to  hide  it : 
No  flowers,  or  only  such  as  rise 
Self-sown  —  poor  things  !  —  which  all  despise. 

5.  Dear  country  home!   can  I  forget 

The  least  of  thy  sweet  trifles  ? 
The  window  vines  that  clamber  yet, 

Whose  blooms  the  bee  still  rifles? 
The  roadside  blackberries,  growing  ripe, 
And  in  the  woods  the  Indian  pipe? 

6.  Happy  the  man  who  tills  his  field, 

Content  with  rustic  labor; 
Earth  does  to  him  her  fullness  yield, 

Hap  what  may  to  his  neighbor. 
Well  days,  sound  nights  —  oh,  can  there  be 
A  life  more  rational  and  free  ? 

NOTE.  —  5.   The  Indian  pipe  is  a  little,  white  plant,  bearing 
white,  bell-shaped  flower. 


FIFTH   READER.  321 


CVII.    THE  VIRGINIANS. 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray  (6.  1811,  d.  1863).  This  popular 
English  humorist,  essayist,  and  novelist  was  born  in  Calcutta.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Charterhouse  school  in  London,  and  at  Cambridge,  but 
he  did  not  complete  a  collegiate  course  of  study.  He  began  his  literary 
career  as  a  contributor  to  "  Eraser's  Magazine,"  under  the  assumed 
name  of  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  and  afterwards  contributed  to  the 
columns  of  "Punch."  The  first  novel  published  under  Thackeray's 
own  name  was  "Vanity  Fair,"  which  is  regarded  by  many  as  his 
greatest  work.  He  afterwards  wrote  a  large  number  of  novels,  tales,, 
and  poems,  most  of  which  were  illustrated  by  sketches  drawn  by  him- 
self. His  course  of  "Lectures  on  the  English  Humorists"  was  deliv- 
ered in  London  in  1851,  and  the  following  year  in  several  cities  in  the 
United  States.  He  revisited  the  United  States  in  1856,  and  delivered  a 
course  of  lectures  on  "  The  Four  Georges,"  which  he  repeated  in  Great 
Britain  soon  after  his  return  home.  In  1860  he  became  the  editor  of 
"  The  Cornhill  Magazine,"  the  most  successful  serial  ever  published  in 
England. 

1.  MR.  ESMOND  called  his  American  house  Castlewood, 
from  the  patrimonial  home  in  the  old  country.     The  whole 
usages  of  Virginia,  indeed,  were  fondly  modeled  after  the 
English  customs.     It  was  a  loyal  colony.     The  Virginians 
boasted  that  King  Charles  the  Second  had  been  king  in 
Virginia  before  he  had  been  king  in  England.     English  king 
and  English  church  were  alike  faithfully  honored  there. 

2.  The  resident  gentry  were  allied  to  good  English  fami- 
lies.     They  held  their  heads  above  the  Dutch  traders  of 
New  York,  and  the  money-getting  Eoundheads  of  Penn- 
sylvania and  New  England.      Never  were  people  less  re- 
publican than  those  of  the  great  province  which  was  soon 
to  be  foremost  in  the  memorable  revolt  against  the  British 
Crown. 

3.  The  gentry  of  Virginia  dwelt  on  their  great  lands 
after  a  fashion  almost  patriarchal.     For  its  rough  cultiva- 
tion, each  estate  had  a  multitude  of  hands  —  of  purchased 
and  assigned  servants  —  who  were  subject  to  the  command 
of  the  master.     The  land  yielded  their  food,  live  stock,  and 
game. 

(5.— ».) 


322  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

4.  The  great  rivers  swarmed  with,  fish  for  the  taking. 
Prom  their  banks  the  passage  home  was  clear.     Their  ships 
took  the  tobacco  off  their  private  wharves  on  the  banks  of 
the  Potomac  or  the  James  River,  and  carried  it  to  London 
or  Bristol,  —  bringing  back  English  goods  and  articles  of 
home  manufacture  in  return  for  the  only  produce  which  the 
Virginian  gentry  chose  to  cultivate. 

5.  Their  hospitality  was  boundless.     No  stranger  was  ever 
sent  away  from  their  gates.     The  gentry  received  one  an- 
other, and  traveled  to  each  other's  houses,  in  a  state  almost 
feudal.     The  question  of  slavery  was  not  born  at  the  time 
of  which  we  write.     To  be  the  proprietor  of  black  servants 
shocked  the  feelings   of  no  Virginia  gentleman;   nor,  in 
truth,  was  the  despotism  exercised  over  the  negro  race  gen- 
erally a  savage  one.     The  food  was  plenty :  the  poor  black 
people  lazy  and  not  unhappy.     You  might  have  preached 
negro  emancipation  to  Madam  Esmond  of  Castle  wood  as 
you  might  have  told  her  to  let  the  horses  run  loose  out  of 
her  stables ;  she  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  whip  and  the 
corn  bag  were  good  for  both. 

6.  Her  father  may  have  thought  otherwise,  being  of  a 
skeptical  turn  on  very  many  points,  but  his  doubts  did  not 
break  forth  in  active  denial,  and  he  was  rather  disaffected 
than  rebellious.     At  one  period,  this  gentleman  had  taken 
a  part  in  active  life  at  home,  and  possibly  might  have  been 
eager  to  share  its  rewards ;  but  in  latter  days  he  did  not 
seem  to  care  for  them.     A  something  had  occurred  in  his 
life,  which  had  cast  a  tinge  of  melancholy  over  all  his 
existence. 

7.  He  was  not  unhappy,  —  to  those  about  him  most  kind, 
—  most  affectionate,  obsequious  even  to  the  women  of  his 
family,  whom  he  scarce  ever  contradicted;  but  there  had 
been  some  bankruptcy  of  his  heart,  which  his  spirit  never 
recovered.     He  submitted  to  life,  rather  than  enjoyed  it, 
and  never  was  in  better  spirits  than  in  his  last  hours  when 
he  was  going  to  lay  it  down. 


FIFTH   READER.  323 

8.  When  the  boys'  grandfather   died,  their  mother,  in 
great  state,  proclaimed  her  eldest  son  George  her  successor 
and  heir  of  the  estate ;  and  Harry,  George's  younger  brother 
by  half  an  hour,  was  always  enjoined  to  respect  his  senior. 
All  the  household  was  equally  instructed  to  pay  him  honor; 
the  negroes,  of  whom  there  was  a  large  and  happy  family, 
and  the  assigned  servants  from  Europe,  whose  lot  was  made 
as  bearable  as  it  might  be  under  the  government  of  the 
lady  of  Castlewood. 

9.  In  the  whole  family  there  scarcely  was  a  rebel  save 
Mrs.   Esmond's    faithful    friend    and  companion,   Madam 
Mountain,  and  Harry's  foster    mother,   a  faithful    negro 
woman,  who  never  could  be  made  to  understand  why  her 
child  should  not  be  first,  who  was  handsomer,  and  stronger, 
and  cleverer  than  his  brother,  as  she  vowed;   though,   in 
truth,   there  was   scarcely   any   difference  in  the  beauty, 
strength,  or  stature  of  the  twins. 

10.  In  disposition,  they  were  in  many  points  exceedingly 
unlike ;  but  in  feature  they  resembled  each  other  so  closely, 
that,  but  for  the  color  of  their  hair,  it  had  been  difficult  to 
distinguish  them.      In  their  beds,  and  when  their   heads 
were  covered  with  those  vast,  ribboned  nightcaps,  which  our 
great  and  little  ancestors  wore,  it  was  scarcely  possible  for 
any  but  a  nurse  or  a  mother  to  tell  the  one  from  the  other 
child. 

11.  Howbeit,   alike  in  form,   we  have    said  that  they 
differed  in  temper.     The  elder  was  peaceful,  studious,  and 
silent ;  the  younger  was  warlike  and  noisy.     He  was  quick 
at   learning  when  he   began,  but  very  slow  at  beginning. 
No  threats  of  the  ferule  would  provoke  Harry  to  learn  in 
an  idle   fit,  or  would  prevent   George   from   helping  his 
brother  in  his  lesson.     Harry  was  of  a  strong  military  turn, 
drilled  the  little  negroes  on  the  estate,  and  caned  them  like 
a  corporal,  having  many  good  boxing  matches  with  them, 
and  never  bearing  malice  if  he  was  worsted;  —  whereas 
George  was  sparing  of  blows,  and  gentle  with  all  about  him. 


324  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

12.  As  the  custom  in  all  families  was,  each  of  the  boys 
had  a  special  little   servant  assigned  him:   and  it  was   a 
known  fact  that  George,  finding  his  little  wretch  of  a  black- 
amoor asleep  on  his  master's  bed,  sat  down  beside  it,  and 
brushed  the  flies  off  the  child  with  a  feather  fan,  to  the 
horror  of  old  Gumbo,  the  child's  father,  who  found  his 
young  master  so  engaged,  and  to  the  indignation  of  Madam 
Esmond,  who  ordered  the  young  negro  off  to  the  proper 
officer  for  a  whipping.     In  vain  George  implored  and  en- 
treated —  burst  into  passionate  tears,  and  besought  a  remis- 
sion of  the  sentence.     His  mother  was  inflexible  regarding 
the  young  rebel's  punishment,  and  the  little  negro  went  off 
beseeching  his  young  master  not  to  cry. 

13.  On  account  of  a  certain  apish  drollery  and  humor 
which  exhibited  itself  in  the  lad,  and  a  liking  for  some  of 
the  old  man's  pursuits,  the  first  of  the  twins  was  the  grand- 
father's favorite  and  companion,  and  would  laugh  and  talk 
out  all  his  infantine  heart  to  the  old  gentleman,  to  whom 
the  younger  had  seldom  a  word  to  say. 

14.  George  was  a  demure,  studious  boy,  and  his  senses 
seemed  to  brighten  up  in  the  library,  where  his  brother  was 
so  gloomy.     He  knew  the  books  before  he  could  well-nigh 
carry  them,  and  read  in  them  long  before  he  could  under- 
stand them.     Harry,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all  alive  in 
the  stables  or  in  the  wood,  eager  for  all  parties  of  hunting 
and  fishing,  and  promised  to  be  a  good  sportsman  from  a 
very  early  age. 

15.  At  length  the  time  came  when  Mr.  Esmond  was  to 
have  done  with  the  affairs  of  this  life,  and  he  laid  them 
down  as  if  glad  to  be  rid  of  their  burden.     All  who  read 
and  heard  that  discourse,  wondered  where  Parson  Broad- 
bent  of  James  Town  found  the  eloquence  and  the  Latin 
which  adorned  it.     Perhaps  Mr.  Dempster  knew,  the  boys' 
Scotch  tutor,  who  corrected  the  proofs  of  the  oration,  which 
was  printed,  by  the  desire  of  his   Excellency  and  many 
persons  of  honor,  at  Mr.  Franklin's  press  in  Philadelphia, 


FIFTH    READER.  325 

16.  No  such  sumptuous  funeral  had  ever  been  seen  in  the 
country  as  that  which  Madam  Esmond  Warrington  ordained 
for  her  father,  who  would  have  been  the  first  to  smile  at 
that  pompous  grief. 

17.  The  little  lads  of  Castlewood,  almost  smothered  in 
black  trains  and  hatbands,  headed  the  procession  and  were 
followed  by  my  Lord  Fairfax,  from  Greenway  Court,  by 
his  Excellency  the  Governor  of  Virginia  (with  his  coach), 
by  the  Randolphs,  the  Careys,  the  Harrisons,  the  Washing- 
tons,  and  many  others  ;  for  the  whole  country  esteemed  the 
departed  gentleman,  whose  goodness,  whose  high  talents, 
whose  benevolence  and  unobtrusive  urbanity,  had  earned 
for  him  the  just  respect  of  his  neighbors. 

18.  When  informed  of  the  event,  the  family  of  Colonel 
Esmond's  stepson,  the  Lord  Castlewood  of  Hampshire  in 
England,  asked  to  be  at  the  charges  of  the  marble   slab 
which  recorded  the  names  and  virtues  of  his   lordship's 
mother  and  her  husband;   and  after  due  time  of  prepara- 
tion, the  monument  was  set  up,  exhibiting  the  arms  and 
coronet  of  the  Esmonds,  supported  by  a  little,  chubby  group 
of  weeping  cherubs,  and  reciting  an  epitaph  which  for  once 
did  not  tell  any  falsehoods. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Pat-ri-mo'ni-al,  inherited  from  ancestors. 
6.  Dis-af-fect'ed,  discontented.  7.  Ob-se'qui-ous,  compliant  to  ex- 
cess. 12.  Black'a-moor,  a  negro.  17.  Ur-ban'i-ty,  civility  or  cour- 
tesy of  manners,  refinement.  18.  Ep'i-taph  (pro.  ep'i-taf),  an 
inscription  on  a  monument,  in  honor  or  in  memory  of  the  dead. 

NOTES.  —  2.  Roundhead  was  the  epithet  applied  to  the  Puritans 
by  the  Cavaliers  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  It  arose  from  the 
practice  among  the  Puritans  of  cropping  their  hair  peculiarly. 

3.  Patriarchal.  5.  Feudal.  The  Jewish  patriarch,  in  olden 
times,  and  the  head  of  a  noble  family  in  Europe,  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  the  u  Feudal  System,"  as  it  is  called,  existed, 
both  held  almost  despotic  sway,  the  one  over  his  great  number  of 
descendants  and  relations,  and  the  other  over  a  vast  body  of  sub- 


326  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

jects  or  retainers.  Both  patriarch  and  feudal  lord  were  less  re- 
stricted than  the  modern  king,  and  the  feudal  lord,  especially, 
lived  in  a  state  of  great  magnificence. 

15.  Proofs.  When  matter  is  to  be  printed,  a  rough  impression 
of  it  is  taken  as  soon  as  the  type  is  set  up,  and  sent  to  the  editor 
or  some  other  authority  for  correction.  These  first  sheets  are 
called  proofs. 

His  Excellency  was  the  title  applied  to  the  governor. 


CVIII.    MINOT'S  LEDGE. 

Pitz- James  O'Brien  (&.  1828,  d.  1862)  was  of  Irish  birth,  and  came  to 
America  in  1852.  He  has  contributed  a  number  of  tales  and  poems  to 
various  periodicals,  but  his  writings  have  never  been  collected  in  book 
form.  Mr.  O'Brien  belonged  to  the  New  York  Seventh  Regiment,  and 
died  at  Baltimore  of  a  wound  received  in  a  cavalry  skirmish. 

1.   LIKE  spectral  hounds  across  the  sky, 

The  white  clouds  scud  before  the  storm; 
And  naked  in  the  howling  night 

The  red-eyed  lighthouse  lifts  its  form. 
The  waves  with  slippery  fingers  clutch 

The  massive  tower,  and  climb  and  fall, 
And,  muttering,  growl  with  bamed  rage 

Their  curses  on  the  sturdy  wall. 


2.   Up  in  the  lonely  tower  he  sits, 

The  keeper  of  the  crimson  light: 
Silent  and  awe-struck  does  he  hear 

The  imprecations  of  the  night. 
The  white  spray  beats  against  the  panes 

Like  some  wet  ghost  that  down  the  air 
Is  hunted  by  a  troop  of  fiends, 

And  seeks  a  shelter  anywhere. 


FIFTH   HEADER.  327 

3.  He  prays  aloud,  the  lonely  man, 

For  every  soul  that  night  at  sea, 
But  more  than  all  for  that  brave  boy 

Who  used  to  gayly  climb  his  knee, — 
Young  Charlie,  with  his  chestnut  hair, 

And  hazel  eyes,  and  laughing  lip. 
"May  Heaven  look  down,"  the  old  man  cries, 

"Upon  my  son,  and  on  his  ship!" 

4.  While  thus  with  pious  heart  he  prays, 

Far  in  the  distance  sounds  a  boom : 
He  pauses;   and  again  there  rings 

That  sullen  thunder  through  the  room. 
A  ship  upon  the  shoals  to-night! 

She  cannot  hold  for  one  half  hour ; 
But  clear  the  ropes  and  grappling  hooks, 

And  trust  in  the  Almighty  Power! 

5.  On  the  drenched  gallery  he  stands, 

Striving  to  pierce  the  solid  night: 
Across  the  sea  the  red  eye  throws 

A  steady  crimson  wake  of  light; 
And,  where  it  falls  upon  the  waves, 

He  sees  a  human  head  float  by, 
With  long  drenched  curls  of  chestnut  hair, 

And  wild  but  fearless  hazel  eye. 

6.  Out  with  the  hooks!     One  mighty  fling! 

Adown  the  wind  the  long  rope  curls. 
Oh !   will  it  catch  ?    Ah,  dread  suspense ! 

While  the  wild  ocean  wilder  whirls. 
A  steady  pull;    it  tightens  now: 

Oh !   his  old  heart  will  burst  with  joy, 
As  on  the  slippery  rocks  he  pulls 

The  breathing  body  of  his  boy. 


328  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

7.   Still  sweep  the  specters  through  the  sky; 

Still  scud  the  clouds  before  the  storm; 
Still  naked  in  the  howling  night 

The  red-eyed  lighthouse  lifts  its  form. 
Without,  the  world  is  wild  with  rage; 

Unkenneled  demons  are  abroad; 
But  with  the  father  and  the  son 

Within,  there  is  the  peace  of  God. 

NOTE.  —  Minot's  Ledge  (also  called  the  "Cohasset  Rocks")  is 
a  dangerous  reef  in  Boston  Harbor,  eight  miles  southeast  of 
Boston  Light.  It  has  a  fixed  light  of  its  own,  sixty-six  feet  high. 


CIX.    HAMLET. 

William  Shakespeare  (6.  1564,  d.  1616),  by  many  regarded  as  the 
greatest  poet  the  world  has  ever  produced,  was  born  at  Stratford-upon- 
Avon,  England.  He  was  married,  when  very  young,  to  a  woman  eight 
years  his  senior,  went  to  London,  was  joint  proprietor  of  Blackfriar's 
Theater  in  1589,  wrote  poems  and  plays,  was  an  actor,  accumulated 
some  property,  and  retired  to  Stratford  three  or  four  years  before  his 
death.  He  was  buried  in  Stratford  church,  where  a  monument  has 
been  erected  to  his  memory.  This  is  all  that  is  known  of  him  with 
any  degree  of  certainty. 

Shakespeare's  works  consist  chiefly  of  plays  and  sonnets.  They  show 
a  wonderful  knowledge  of  human  nature,  expressed  in  language  remark- 
able for  its  point  and  beauty. 

(AcT  I,  SCENE  II.     HAMLET  alone  in  a  room  of  the  castle. 
Enter  HORATIO,  MARCELLUS,  and  BERNARDO.) 

Hor.     HAIL  to  your  lordship! 

Ham.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well: 

Horatio,  —  or  I  do  forget  myself. 
Hor.     The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant  ever. 
Ham.  Sir,  my  good  friend ;  I  '11  change  that  name  with  you : 

And  what  make  you  from  Wittenberg,  Horatio?  — 

Marcellus  ? 


FIFTH   READER.  329 

Mar.  My  good  lord  — 

Ham.   I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  [To  BER.]  Good  even,  sir. 

But  what,  in  faith,  make  you  from  Wittenberg  ? 
Hor.     A  truant  disposition,  good  my  lord. 
Ham.   I  would  not  hear  your  enemy  say  so, 

Nor  shall  you  do  mine  ear  that  violence, 

To  make  it  truster  of  your  own  report 

Against  yourself:   I  know  you  are  no  truant. 

But  what  is  your  affair  in  Elsinore? 

We'll  teach  you  to  drink  deep  ere  you  depart. 
Hor.     My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 
Ham.   I  pray  thee,  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student; 

I  think  it  was  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 
Hor.     Indeed,  my  lord,  it  follow'd  hard  upon. 
Ham.   Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio!   the  funeial  baked  meats 

Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 

Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven 

Or  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio! 

My  father !  —  methinks  I  see  my  father. 
Hor.     Where,  my  lord? 

Ham.  In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

Hor.     I  saw  him  once;   he  was  a  goodly  king. 
Ham.   He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 

I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 
Hor.     My  lord,  I  think  I  saw  him  yesternight. 
Ham.    Saw?   who? 
Hor.     My  lord,  the  king  your  father. 
Ham.  The  king  my  father! 

Hor.     Season  your  admiration  for  a  while 

With  an  attent  ear,  till  I  may  deliver, 

Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen, 

This  marvel  to  you. 

Ham.  For  God's  love,  let  me  hear, 

Hor.     Two  nights  together  had  these  gentlemen, 

Marcellus  and  Bernardo,  on  their  watch, 

In  the  dead  vast  and  middle  of  the  night, 


330 


ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


Been  thus  encountered.     A  figure  like  your  father, 
Armed  at  point  exactly,  cap-a-pie, 
Appears  before  them,  and  with  solemn  march 
Goes  slow  and  stately  by  them:  thrice  he  walk'd 


FIFTH   READER.  331 

By  their  oppressed  and  fear-surprised  eyes, 

Within  his  truncheon's  length ;  whilst  they,  distilPd 

Almost  to  jelly  with  the  act  of  fear, 

Stand  dumb  and  speak  not  to  him.     This  to  me 

In  dreadful  secrecy  impart  they  did; 

And  I  with  them  the  third  night  kept  the  watch: 

Where,  as  they  had  delivered,  both  in  time, 

Form  of  the  thing,  each  word  made  true  and  good,. 

The  apparition  conies:   I  knew  your  father; 

These  hands  are  not  more  like. 

Ham.  But  where  was  this? 

Mar.     My  lord,  upon  the  platform  where  we  watch'd. 

Ham.   Did  you  speak  to  it? 

Hor.  My  lord,  I  did; 

But  answer  made  it  none:   yet  once  methought 
It  lifted  up  its  head  and  did  address 
Itself  to  motion,  like  as  it  would  speak; 
But  even  then  the  morning  cock  crew  loud, 
And  at  the  sound  it  shrunk  in  haste  away, 
And  vanished  from  our  sight. 

Ham.  'Tis  very  strange. 

Hor.     As  I  do  live,  my  honored  lord,  'tis  true; 

And  we  did  think  it  writ  down  in  our  duty 
To  let  you  know  of  it. 

Ham.   Indeed,  indeed,  sirs,  but  this  troubles  me. 
Hold  you  the  watch  to-night? 

Mar'     I  We  do,  my  lord. 

Ber.       ) 

Ham.   Arm'd,  say  you? 

Mar'     I  Arm'd,  my  lord. 
Ber.       ) 

Ham.  From  top  to  toe? 

Mar'     I  My  lord,  from  head  to  foot 

Ber.       ) 

Ham.   Then  saw  you  not  his  face? 

Hor.     Oh,  yes,  my  lord ;   he  wore  his  beaver  up. 


332  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Ham.   What,  look'd  lie  frowningly? 

HOT.     A  countenance  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger. 

Ham.   Pale  or  red? 

Nay,  very  pale. 

And  fix'd  his  eyes  upon  you? 

Most  constantly. 

I  would  I  had  been  there. 

It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 
Ham.   Very  like,  very  like.     Stay'd  it  long? 
Hor.     While  one  with  moderate  haste  might  tell  a  hundred. 

>  Longer,  longer. 

Not  when  I  saw't. 

His  beard  was  grizzled,  —  no  ? 
It  was,  as  I  have  seen  it  in  his  life, 
A  sable  silver'd. 

Ham.  I  will  watch  to-night; 

Perchance  't  will  walk  again. 

Hor.  I  warrant  it  will. 

Ham.   If  it  assume  my  noble  father's  person, 

I'll  speak  to  it,  though  hell  itself  should  gape 
And  bid  me  hold  my  peace.     I  pray  you  all, 
If  you  have  hitherto  conceal'd  this  sight, 
Let  it  be  tenable  in  your  silence  still; 
And  whatsoever  else  shall  hap  to-night, 
Give  it  an  understanding,  but  no  tongue: 
I  will  requite  your  loves.     So,  fare  you  well: 
Upon  the  platform,  'twixt  eleven  and  twelve, 
I'll  visit  you. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  Tru'ant,  wandering  from  business,  loitering. 
Trust'er,  a  believer.  At-tent',  attentive,  heedful.  De-liv'er,  to 
communicate,  to  utter.  Cap-a-pie'  (from  the  French,  pro.  kap-a-pee'), 
from  head  to  foot.  Truncheon  (pro.  trun'shun),  a  short  staff,  a 
baton.  Bea'ver,  a  part  of  the  helmet  covering  the  face,  so  constructed 
that  the  wearer  could  raise  or  lower  it.  Ten'a-ble,  capable  of  being 
held. 


FIFTH    READER.  333 

NOTES.  —  What  make  you  from  Wittenberg*  i.e.,  what  are  you 
doing  away  from  Wittenberg  ? 

Wittenberg  is  a  university  town  in  Saxony,  where  Hamlet  and 
Horatio  had  been  schoolfellows. 

Elsinore  is  a  fortified  town  on  one  of  the  Danish  islands,  and 
was  formerly  the  seat  of  one  of  the  royal  castles.  It  is  the  scene 
of  Shakespeare's  "  Hamlet." 

Hard  upon;  i.e.,  soon  after. 

Funeral  baked  meats.  This  has  reference  to  the  ancient  custom 
of  funeral  feasts. 

My  dearest  foe ;  i.e.,  my  greatest  foe.  A  common  use  of  the 
word  "  dearest "  in  Shakespeare's  time. 

Or  ever;  i.e.,  before. 

Season  your  admiration;  i.e.,  restrain  your  wonder. 

The  dead  vast;  i.e.,  the  dead  void. 

Armed  at  point;  i.e.,  armed  at  all  points. 

Did  address  itself  to  motion;  i.e.,  made  a  motion. 

Give  it  an  understanding,  etc. ;  i.e.,  understand,  but  do  not  speak 
of  it. 

1  will  requite  your  loves,  or,  as  we  should  say,  I  will  repay  your 
friendship. 


CX.    DISSERTATION  ON  BOAST  PIG. 

Charles  Lamb  (&.  1775,  d.  1834)  was  born  in  London.  He  was  educated 
at  Christ's  Hospital,  where  he  was  a  schoolfellow  and  intimate  friend  of 
Coleridge.  In  1792  he  became  a  clerk  in  the  India  House,  London,  and  in 
1825  he  retired  from  his  clerkship  on  a  pension  of  £441.  Lamb  never  mar- 
ried, but  devoted  his  life  to  the  care  of  his  sister  Mary,  who  was  at  times 
insane.  He  wrote  "Tales  founded  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare,"  and 
several  other  works  of  rare  merit ;  but  his  literary  fame  rests  principally 
on  the  inimitable  "  Essays  of  Elia  "  (published  originally  in  the  "  London 
Magazine  "),  from  one  of  which  the  following  selection  is  adapted. 

1.  MANKIND,  says  a  Chinese  manuscript,  which  my 
friend  M.  was  obliging  enough  to  read  and  explain  to  me, 
for  the  first  seventy  thousand  ages  ate  their  meat  raw, 
clawing  or  biting  it  from  the  living  animal,  just  as  they 
do  in  Abyssinia  to  this  day. 


334  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

2.  Tliis  period  is  not  obscurely  hinted  at  by  their  great 
Confucius  in  the  second  chapter  of  his  "Mundane  Muta- 
tions," where  he  designates  a  kind  of   golden  age  by  the 
term   Cho-fang,  literally  the  Cooks'  Holiday.     The  manu- 
script goes  on  to  say  that  the  art  of  roasting,  or  rather 
broiling  (which  I  take  to  be  the  elder  brother),  was  acci- 
dentally discovered  in  the  manner  following : 

3.  The  swineherd,  Ho-ti,  having  gone  out  into  the  woods 
•one  morning,  as  his  manner  was,  to  collect  mast  for  his 
hogs,  left  his  cottage  in  the  care  of  his  eldest  son,  Bo-bo,  a 
great  lubberly  boy,  who,  being  fond  of  playing  with  fire, 
as  younkers  of  his   age  commonly  are,  let  some   sparks 
escape   into  a  bundle  of  straw,  which,  kindling  quickly, 
spread  the  conflagration  over  every   part  of    their  poor 
mansion  till  it  was  reduced  to  ashes. 

4.  Together  with  the   cottage,  —  a  sorry,   antediluvian 
makeshift  of  a  building,  you  may  think  it,  —  what  was  of 
much  more  importance,  a  fine  litter  of  newborn  pigs,  no 
less  than  nine  in  number,  perished.     China  pigs  have  been 
esteemed  a  luxury  all  over  the  East  from  the  remotest 
periods  we  read  of. 

5.  Bo-bo  was  in  the  utmost  consternation,  as  you  may 
think,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  tenement,  which  his 
father  and  he  could  easily  build  up  again  with  a  few  dry 
branches,  and  the  labor  of  an  hour  or  two,  at  any  time,  as 
for  the  loss  of  the  pigs.     While  he  was  thinking  what  he 
should  say  to  his  father,  and  wringing  his  hands  over  the 
smoking  remnants  of  one  of  those  untimely  sufferers,  an 
odor  assailed  his  nostrils  unlike  any  scent  which  he  had 
before  experienced. 

6.  What  could  it  proceed  from?    Not  from  the  burnt 
cottage,  —  he  had  smelt  that  smell  before,  —  indeed,  this  was 
by  no  means  the  first  accident  of  the  kind  which  had  oc- 
curred through  the  negligence  of  this  unlucky  young  fire- 
brand.    Much  less  did  it  resemble  that  of  any  known  herb, 
weed,  or  flower.     A  premonitory  moistening  at  the  same 


FIFTH    READER.  335 

time  overflowed  his  nether  lip.     He  knew  not  what  to 
think. 

7.  He  next  stooped  down  to  feel  the  pig,  if  there  were 
any  signs  of  life  in  it.     He  burnt  his  fingers,  and  to  cool 
them  lie  applied  them  in  his  booby  fashion  to  his  mouth. 
Some  of  the  crumbs  of  the  scorched  skin  had  come  away 
with  his  fingers,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  (in  the 
world's  life,  indeed,  for  before  him  no  man  had  known  it) 
he  tasted  —  crackling!    Again  he  felt  and  fumbled  at  the 
pig.     It  did  not  burn  him  so  much  now ;  still  he  licked  his 
fingers  from  a  sort  of  habit. 

8.  The  truth  at  length  broke  into  his  slow  understanding 
that  it  was  the  pig  that  smelt  so,  and  the  pig  that  tasted 
so  delicious;  and  surrendering  himself  up  to  the  newborn 
pleasure,   he    fell  to  tearing  up  whole  handfuls   of    the 
scorched  skin  with  the  flesh  next  it,  and  was  cramming  it 
down  his  throat  in  his  beastly  fashion,  when  his  sire  entered 
amid  the  smoking  rafters,  armed  with  a  retributory  cudgel, 
and,  finding  how  affairs  stood,  began  to  rain  blows  upon 
the  young  rogue's  shoulders  as  thick  as  hailstones,  which 
Bo-bo  heeded  not  any  more  than  if  they  had  been  flies. 

9.  His  father  might  lay  on,  but  he  could  not  beat  him 
from  his  pig  till  he  had  fairly  made  an  end  of  it,  when, 
becoming  a  little  more  sensible  of  his  situation,  something 
like  the  following  dialogue  ensued : 

"  You  graceless  whelp,  what  have  you  got  there  devour- 
ing ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  burnt  me  down  three 
houses  with  your  dog's  tricks,  and  be  hanged  to  you !  but 
you  must  be  eating  fire,  and  I  know  not  what?  What 
have  you  got  there,  I  say  ?  " 

"  O  father,  the  pig,  the  pig !  do  come  and  taste  how  nice 
the  burnt  pig  eats ! " 

10.  The  ears  of  Ho-ti  tingled  with  horror.     He  cursed 
his  son,  and  he  cursed  himself  that  he  should  ever  have  a 
son  that  should  eat  burnt  pig. 

Bo-bo,   whose    scent  was  wonderfully   sharpened    since 


336  ECLECTIC    SEEIES. 

morning,  soon  raked  out  another  pig,  and,  fairly  rending  it 
asunder,  thrust  the  lesser  half  by  main  force  into  the  fists 
of  Ho-ti,  still  shouting  out,  "Eat,  eat,  eat  the  burnt  pig, 
father !  only  taste !  Oh ! "  with  such  like  barbarous  ejacu- 
lations, cramming  all  the  while  as  if  he  would  choke. 

11.  Ho-ti  trembled  in  every  joint  while  he  grasped  the 
abominable  thing,  wavering  whether  he  should  not  put  his 
son  to  death  for  an  unnatural  young  monster,  when  the 
crackling  scorching  his  fingers,  as  it  had  done  his  son's, 
and  applying  the  same  remedy  to  them,  he  in  his  turn 
tasted  some  of  its  flavor,  which,  make  what  sour  mouths  he 
would  for  a  pretense,  proved  not  altogether  displeasing  to 
him.     In  conclusion  (for  the  manuscript  here  is  a  little 
tedious),  both  father  and  son  fairly  sat  down  to  the  mess, 
and  never  left  off  till  they  had  dispatched  all  that  remained 
of  the  litter. 

12.  Bo-bo  was   strictly  enjoined  not  to  let  the   secret 
escape,  for  the  neighbors  would  certainly  have  stoned  them 
for  a  couple  of  abominable  wretches,  who  could  think  of 
improving  upon  the  good  meat  which  God  had  sent  them. 
Nevertheless  strange  stories  got  about.     It  was  observed 
that  Ho-ti's  cottage  was  burnt  down  now  more  frequently 
than  ever.      Nothing  but  fires   from   this   time   forward, 
Some  would  break  out  in  broad  day,  others  in  the  night- 
time ;  and  Ho-ti  himself,  which  was  the  more  remarkable, 
instead  of  chastising  his  son,  seemed  to  grow  more  indul- 
gent to  him  than  ever. 

13.  At  length  they  were  watched,  the  terrible  mystery 
discovered,  and  father  and  son  summoned  to  take  their 
trial  at  Pekin,  then  an  inconsiderable  assize  town.     Evi- 
dence was   given,  the  obnoxious  food  itself  produced  in 
court,  and  verdict  about  to  be  pronounced,  when  the  fore- 
man of  the  jury  begged  that  some  of  the  burnt  pig,  of 
which  the  culprits  stood  accused,  might  be  handed  into 
the  box. 

14.  He  handled  it,  and  they  all  handled  it ;  and  burning 


FIFTH   READER.  337 

their  fingers,  as  Bo-bo  and  his  father  had  done  before  them, 
and  nature  prompting  to  each  of  them  the  same  remedy, 
against  the  face  of  all  the  facts,  and  the  clearest  charge 
which  the  judge  had  ever  given,  —  to  the  surprise  of  the 
whole  court,  townsfolk,  strangers,  reporters,  and  all  pres- 
ent, —  without  leaving  the  box,  or  any  manner  of  consulta- 
tion whatever,  they  brought  in  a  simultaneous  verdict  of 
"Not  Guilty." 

15.  The  judge,  who  was  a  shrewd  fellow,  winked  at  the! 
manifest  iniquity  of  the  decision ;  and  when  the  court  was 
dismissed,  went  privily,  and  bought  up  all  the  pigs  that 
could  be  had  for  love  or  money.     In  a  few  days  his  lord- 
ship's townhouse  was  observed  to  be  on  fire. 

16.  The  thing  took  wing,  and  now  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen  but  fire  in  every  direction.     Fuel  and  pigs  grew 
enormously  dear  all  over   the    district.      The    insurance 
offices  one  and  all  shut  up  shop.     People  built  slighter  and 
slighter  every  day,  until  it  was  feared  that  the  very  science 
of  architecture  would  in  no  long  time  be  lost  to  the  world. 

17.  Thus  this  custom  of  firing  houses  continued  till  in 
process  of  time,  says  my  manuscript,  a  sage  arose,  like  our 
Locke,  who  made  a  discovery  that  the  flesh  of  swine,  or 
indeed  of  any  other  animal,  might  be  cooked  (burnt,  as  they 
called  it)  without  the  necessity  of  consuming  a  whole  house 
to  dress  it. 

18.  Then  first  began  the  rude  form  of  a  gridiron.     Koast- 
ing  by  the  string  or  spit  came  in  a  century  or  two  later ;  I 
forget  in  whose  dynasty.     By  such  slow  degrees,  concludes 
the   manuscript,   do  the   most  useful,   and   seemingly  the 
most  obvious,  arts  make  their  way  among  mankind. 

19.  Without  placing  too  implicit   faith  in  the  account 
above  given,  it  must  be  agreed  that  if  a  worthy  pretext  for 
so  dangerous  an  experiment  as  setting  houses  on  fire  (es- 
pecially in  these  days)  could  be  assigned  in  favor  of  any 
culinary  object  that  pretext  and  excuse  might  be  found  in 
Roast  Pig. 

(6.— 22.) 


338  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  3.  Youn'kers,  young  persons.  4.  An-te-di-lu'- 
vi-an  (literally,  existing  before  the  flood),  very  ancient.  Make'shift, 
that  which  answers  a  need  with  the  best  means  at  hand.  6.  Pre- 
mon'i-to-ry,  giving  previous  warning.  8.  Re-trib'u-to-ry,  rewarding, 
retaliating.  12.  En-joined',  ordered,  commanded.  13.  Ob-nox'- 
ioiis  (pro.  ob-nok'shus),  liable  to  censure,  offensive.  18.  Dy'nas-ty, 
sovereignty,  reign.  19.  Iin-pltyit,  trusting  without  doubt.  Cu'li-na-ry, 
relating  to  the  kitchen. 

NOTES.  — 1.   Abyssinia  is  a  country  of  eastern  Africa. 

2.  Confucius  (pro.  -Con-f u'she-us ;  the  Chinese  name  is  Kong- 
fu-tse',  pro.  Kong-foot-sa')  was  a  celebrated  Chinese  philosopher 
(ft.  551  B.C.)  who  did  much  for  the  moral  improvement  of  his 
country. 

The  Golden  Age  was  supposed  to  be  that  period  in  the  various 
stages  of  human  civilization  when  the  greatest  simplicity  existed ; 
the  fruits  of  the  earth  sprang  up  without  cultivation,,  and  spring 
was  the  only  season. 

13.  Pekin  is  the  capital  of  China. 

An  assize  town  is  a  town  where  the  assizes,  or  periodical  sittings 
of  a  court,  are  held. 

17.  Locke  (b.  1632,  d.  1704)  was  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of 
English  philosophers. 


CXI.    A    PEN  PICTURE. 

William  Black  (&.  1841,  -  — )  is  one  of  the  leading  modern  nov- 
elists of  England.  The  scenes  of  his  stories  are  for  the  most  part  laid  in 
Scotland,  and  he  excels  in  the  delineation  of  Scotch  character.  But  his 
most  remarkable  power  is  seen  in  those  vivid,  poetical  descriptions  of 
scenery,  of  which  the  following  selection,  adapted  from  "  The  Princess 
of  Thule,"  is  a  good  example.  Mr.  Black's  most  noted  works,  in  addition 
to  the  one  named,  are :  "  A  Daughter  of  Heth,"  "  The  Strange  Adventures 
of  a  Phaeton,"  "  Kilmeny,"  and  "  McLeod  of  Dare." 

1.  LAVENDER  had  already  transformed  Sheila  into  a 
heroine  during  the  half  hour  of  their  stroll  from  the  beach 


FIFTH    READER.  339 

and  around  the  house ;  and  as  they  sat  at  dinner  on  this 
still,  brilliant  evening  in  summer,  he  clothed  her  in  the 
garments  of  romance. 

2.  Her  father,  with  his   great,  gray  beard  and  heavy 
brow,  became  the  King  of  Thule,  living  in  this   solitary 
house  overlooking  the  sea,  and  having  memories  of  a  dead 
sweetheart.     His  daughter,  the  Princess,  had  the  glamour 
of  a  thousand  legends  dwelling  in  her  beautiful  eyes ;  and 
when  she  walked  by  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  that  were 
now  getting  yellow  under  the  sunset,  what  strange  and 
unutterable  thoughts  must  appear  in  the  wonder  of  her 
face! 

3.  After  dinner  they  went  outside  and  sat  down  on  a 
bench  in  the  garden.     It  was  a  cool  and  pleasant  evening. 
The  sun  had  gone  down  in  red  fire  behind  the  Atlantic, 
and  there  was  still  left  a  rich  glow  of  crimson  in  the  west, 
while  overhead,  in  the  pale  yellow  of  the  sky,  some  filmy 
clouds  of  rose   color  lay  motionless.     How  calm  was  the 
sea  out  there,  and  the  whiter  stretch  of  water  coming  into 
Loch  Roag !     The  cool  air  of  the  twilight  was  scented  with 
sweetbrier.     The  wash  of  the  ripples  along  the  coast  could 
be  heard  in  the  stillness. 

4.  The  girl  put  her  hand  on  her  father's  head,  and  re- 
minded him  that  she  had  had  her  big  greyhound,  Bras, 
imprisoned  all  the  afternoon,  and  that  she  had  to  go  down 
to  Borvabost  with  a  message   for  some  people  who  were 
leaving  by  the  boat  in  the  morning. 

"  But  you  can  not  go  away  down  to  Borvabost  by  your- 
self, Sheila,"  said  Ingram.  "  It  will  be  dark  before  you 
return." 

"  It  will  not  be  darker  than  this  all  the  night  through," 
said  the  girl. 

5.  "But  I  hope  you  will  let  u&  go  with  you,"  said 
Lavender,  rather  anxiously ;   and  she  assented  with  a  gra- 
cious smile,  and  went  to  fetch  the   great  deerhound  that 
was  her  constant  companion.    And  lo!  he  found  himself 


340  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

walking  with  a  Princess  in  this  wonderland,  through  the 
magic  twilight  that  prevails  in  northern  latitudes.  Mac- 
kenzie and  Ingram  had  gone  to  the  front.  The  large 
deerhound,  after  regarding  him  attentively,  had  gone  to 
its  mistress's  side,  and  remained  closely  there. 

6.  Even   Sheila,   when   they   had    reached    the    loftiest 
part  of  their  route,  and  could  see  beneath  them  the  island 
and  the  water  surrounding  it,  was  struck  by  the  exceeding 
beauty  of  the  twilight ;  and  as  for  her  companion,  he  re- 
membered it  many  a  time  thereafter,  as  if  it  were  a  dream 
of  the  sea. 

7.  Before  them  lay  the  Atlantic  —  a  pale  line  of  blue, 
still,  silent,  and  remote.     Overhead  the  sky  was  of  a  clear, 
thin  gold,   with  heavy  masses   of  violet  cloud   stretched 
across   from  north  to   south,  and  thickening  as   they  got 
near  the  horizon.     Down  at  their  feet,  near  the   shore,  a 
dusky  line  of  huts  and  houses  was   scarcely  visible;   and 
over  these  lay  a  pale  blue  film,  of  peat  smoke  that  did  not 
move  in  the  still  air. 

8.  Then  they  saw  the  bay  into  which  the  White  Water 
runs,  and  they  could  trace  the  yellow  glimmer  of  the  river 
stretching  into  the  island  through  a  level  valley  of  bog  and 
morass.     Far  away  towards   the  east  lay  the  bulk   of  the 
island,  —  dark  green  undulations  of  moorland  and  pasture ; 
and  there,  in  the  darkness,  the  gable  of   one  white  house 
had  caught  the  clear  light  of  the  sky,  and  was  gleaming  { 
westward  like  a  star. 

9.  But  all  this  was  as  nothing  to  the  glory  that  began 
to  shine  in  the  southeast,  where  the  sky  was  of  a  pale  violet 
over  the   peaks   of  Mealasabhal   and    Suainabhal.     There, 
into  the  beautiful  dome,  rose  the   golden  crescent   of  the 
moon,  warm  in  color,  as  though  it  still  retained  the  last  rays 
of  the  sunset.     A  line  of   quivering  gold  fell  across  Loch 
Koag,  and  touched  the  black  hull  and  spars  of  the  boat  in 
which  Sheila  had  been  sailing  in  the  morning. 

10.  That  bay  down  there,  with  its  white  sands  and  mass- 


FIFTH    READER.  341 

ive  rocks,  its  still  expanse  of  water,  and  its  background  of 
mountain  peaks  palely  covered  by  the  yellow  moonlight, 
seemed  really  a  home  for  a  magic  princess  who  was  shut 
off  from  all  the  world.  But  here,  in  front  of  them,  was 
another  sort  of  sea,  and  another  sort  of  life,  —  a  small  fish- 
ing village  hidden  under  a  cloud  of  pale  peat  smoke,  and 
fronting  the  great  waters  of  the  Atlantic  itself,  which  lay 
under  a  gloom  of  violet  clouds. 

11.  On  the  way  home  it  was   again  Lavender's   good 
fortune  to  walk  with  Sheila  across  the  moorland  path  they 
had  traversed  some  little  time  before.     And  now  the  moon 
was  still  higher  in  the  heavens,  and  the  yellow  lane  of  light 
that  crossed  the  violet  waters  of  Loch  Boag  quivered  in  a 
deeper  gold.     The  night  air  was  scented  with  the  Dutch 
clover  growing  down  by  the  shore.     They  could  hear  the 
curlew  whistling  and  the  plover  calling  amid  that  monoto- 
nous plash  of  the  waves  that  murmured  all  around  the  coast. 

12.  When  they  returned  to  the  house,  the  darker  waters 
of  the  Atlantic  and  the  purple  clouds  of  the  west  were  shut 
out  from  sight ;  and  before  them  there  was  only  the  liquid 
plain  of  Loch  Roag,  with  its  pathway  of  yellow  fire,  and 
far  away  on  the  other  side  the  shoulders  and  peaks  of  the 
southern  mountains,  that  had  grown  gray  and  clear  and 
sharp  in  the  beautiful  twilight.    And  this  was  Sheila's 
home. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  2.  Gla'mpur  (pro.  gla'moor),  witchery,  or  a 
charm  on  the  eyes,  making  them  see  things  differently  from  what 
they  really  are.  3.  Loch  (pro.  16k),  a  lake,  a  bay  or  arm  of  the 
sea.  7.  Peat,  a  kind  of  turf  used  for  fuel.  11.  Cur'Jew  (pro. 
kiir'lu),  an  aquatic  bird  which  takes  its  name  from  its  cry.  Plov'er 
(pro.  pluv'er),  a  game  bird  frequenting  river  banks  and  the  sea- 
shore. 

NOTES.  —  Of  the  characters  mentioned  in  this  selection,  Sheila 
is  a  young  Scotch  girl  living  on  the  small  island  of  Borva, 
which  her  father  owns:  it  lies  just  west  of  Lewie,  one  of  the 


342  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

Hebrides.  Ingram  is  an  old  friend  and  frequent  visitor,  while 
Lavender,  a  friend  of  In  gram's,  is  on  his  first  visit  to  the 
island. 

2.  TJiule  {pro.  Thu'le)  is  the  name  given  by  an  ancient  Greek 
navigator,  Pytheas,  to  the  northernmost  region  of  Europe.     The 
exact  locality  of  Thule  is  a  disputed  point. 

3.  Loch  Roag  {pro.  Rog)  is  an  inlet  of  the  sea,  west  of  Lewis, 
in  which  Borva  is  situated. 

4.  Borvabost,  a  little  town  of  Borva.     Bost  means  an  inhabited 
place. 

9.   Mealasabhal  and  Suainabhal  are  mountains  on  the  island  of 
Lewis.     Bhal  is  Gaelic  for  mountain. 


CXII.    THE  GREAT  VOICES. 


Charles  T.  Brooks  (6.  1813,  d.  1833)  was  born  at  Salem,  Mass.,  and 
was  the  valedictorian  of  his  class  at  Harvard  College,  where  he  graduated 
in  1832.  He  shortly  afterwards  entered  the  ministry,  and  had  charge  of 
a  congregation  at  Newport,  R.I.  He  was  a  great  student  of  German  liter- 
ature, and  began  his  own  literary  career  by  a  translation  of  Schiller's 
"William  Tell."  This  was  followed  by  numerous  translations  from  the 
German,  mainly  poetry,  which  have  been  published  from  time  to  time, 
in  several  volumes.  Of  these  translations,  Goethe's  "Faust,"  Richter's 
"  Titan  "  and  "  Hesperus,"  and  a  humorous  poem  by  Dr.  Karl  Arnold 
Kortum,  "  The  Life,  Opinions,  Actions,  and  Fate  of  Hieronimus  Jobs,  the 
Candidate,"  deserve  especial  mention.  Mr.  Brooks  also  published  a  num- 
ber of  original  poems,  addresses,  etc. 

1.  A  VOICE  from  the  sea  to  the  mountains, 
From  the  mountains  again  to  the  sea; 
A  call  from  the  deep  to  the  fountains,— 
"0  spirit!   be  glad  and  be  free." 


2.   A  cry  from  the  floods  to  the  fountains; 
And  the  torrents  repeat  the  glad  song 
As  they  leap  from  the  breast  of  the  mountains, — 
"O  spirit!   be  free  and  be  strong." 


fIFTH   READER.  343 

3.  The  pine  forests  thrill  with  emotion 

Of  praise,  as  the  spirit  sweeps  by : 
With  a  voice  like  the  murmur  of  ocean 
To  the  soul  of  the  listener  they  cry. 

4.  Oh!   sing,  human  heart,  like  the  fountains, 

With  joy  reverential  and  free, 
Contented  and  calm  as  the  mountains, 
And  deep  as  the  woods  and  the  sea. 


.    A  PICTURE  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

Samuel  Johnson  (6.  1709,  d.  1784).  This  remarkable  man  was  born 
in  Lichfield,  Staffordshire,  England.  He  was  the  son  of  a  bookseller 
and  stationer.  He  entered  Pembroke  College,  Oxford,  in  1728;  but  his 
poverty  compelled  him  to  leave  at  the  end  of  three  years.  Soon  after 
his  marriage,  in  1736,  he  opened  a  private  school,  but  obtained  only 
three  pupils,  one  of  whom  was  David  Garrick,  afterwards  a  celebrated 
actor.  In  1737,  he  removed  to  London,  where  he  resided  most  of  the 
rest  of  his  life.  The  most  noted  of  his  numerous  literary  works  are  his 
"Dictionary,"  the  first  one  of  the  English  language  worthy  of  mention, 
"The  Vanity  of  Human  "Wishes,"  a  poem,  "The  Rambler,"  "Rasselas," 
"  The  Lives  of  the  English  Poets,"  and  his  edition  of  Shakespeare.  An 
annual  pension  of  £300  was  granted  him  in  1762. 

In  person,  Johnson  was  heavy  and  awkward ;  in  manner,  boorish  and 
overbearing ;  but  his  learning  and  his  great  powers  caused  his  company  to 
be  sought  by  many  eminent  men. 

1.  OBIDAH,  the  son  of  Abnesina,  left  the  caravansary 
early  in  the  morning,  and  pursued  his  journey  through 
the  plains  of  Hindostan.     He  was  fresh  and  vigorous  with 
rest ;   he  was  animated  with  hope ;  he  was  incited  by  de- 
sire ;  he  walked  swiftly  forward  over  the  valleys,  and  saw 
the  hills  gradually  rising  before  him. 

2.  As  he  passed  along,  his  ears  were  delighted  with  the 
morning  song  of  the  bird  of  paradise ;  he  was  fanned  by 
the  last  nutters  of  the  sinking  breeze,  and  sprinkled  with 
dew  by  groves  of  spices;   he  sometimes  contemplated  the 


844  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

towering  height  of  the  oak,  monarch  of  the  hills;  and 
sometimes  caught  the  gentle  fragrance  of  the  primrose, 
eldest  daughter  of  the  spring ;  all  his  senses  were  gratified, 
and  all  care  was  banished  from  his  heart. 

3.  Thus  he  went  on,  till  the  sun  approached  his  merid- 
ian, and  the  increasing  heat  preyed  upon  his  strength ;  he 
then  looked  round  about  him  for  some  more  commodious 
path.     He  saw,  on  his  right  hand,  a  grove  that  seemed  to 
wave  its  shades  as  a  sign  of  invitation ;  he  entered  it,  and 
found  the  coolness  and  verdure  irresistibly  pleasant.     He 
did  not,  however,  forget  whither  he  was  traveling,  but 
found  a  narrow  way,  bordered  with  flowers,  which  ap- 
peared  to  have  the  same  direction  with  the  main  road, 
and  was  pleased,  that,  by  this  happy  experiment,  he  had 
found  means  to  unite  pleasure  with  business,  and  to  gain 
the  rewards  of  diligence  without  suffering  its  fatigues. 

4.  He,  therefore,  still  continued  to  walk  for  a  time, 
without  the  least  remission  of  his  ardor,  except  that  he 
was  sometimes  tempted  to  stop  by  the  music  of  the  birds, 
which  the  heat  had  assembled  in  the  shade,  and  sometimes 
amused  himself  with  picking  the  flowers  that  covered  the 
banks  on  each  side,   or  the  fruits  that  hung  upon  the 
branches.     At  last,  the  green  path  began  to  decline  from 
its  first  tendency,  and  to  wind  among  the  hills  and  thick- 
ets, cooled  with  fountains,   and  murmuring  with  water- 
falls. 

5.  Here  Obidah  paused  for  a  time,  and  began  to  con- 
sider whether  it  was  longer  safe  to  forsake  the  known  and 
common  track;   but,  remembering  that  the  heat  was  now 
in  its  greatest  violence,  and  that  the  plain  was  dusty  and 
uneven,  he  resolved  to  pursue  the  new  path,  which  he 
supposed  only  to  make  a  few  meanders,  in  compliance  with 
the  varieties  of  the  ground,  and  to  end  at  last  in  the 
common  road. 

6.  Having  thus  calmed  his  solicitude,  he  renewed  his 
pace,  though  he  suspected  he  was  not  gaining  ground. 


FIFTH    READER.  346 

This  uneasiness  of  his  mind  inclined  him  to  lay  hold  on 
every  new  object,  and  give  way  to  every  sensation  that 
might  soothe  or  divert  him.  He  listened  to  every  echo, 
he  mounted  every  hill  for  a  fresh  prospect,  he  turned 
aside  to  every  cascade,  and  pleased  himself  with  tracing 
the  course  of  a  gentle  river  that  rolled  among  the  trees, 
and  watered  a  large  region,  with  innumerable  circumvolu- 
tions. 

7.  In  these   amusements,  the   hours   passed  away  un- 
counted ;  his  deviations  had  perplexed  his  memory,  and  he 
knew  not  toward  what  point  to  travel.     He  stood  pensive 
and  confused,  afraid  to  go  forward  lest  he  should  go  wrong, 
yet  conscious  that  the  time  of  loitering  was  now  past. 
While  he  was  thus  tortured  with  uncertainty,  the  sky  was 
overspread  with  clouds,  the  day  vanished  from  before  him, 
and  a  sudden  tempest  gathered  round  his  head. 

8.  He  was  now  roused  by  his  danger  to  a  quick  and 
painful  remembrance  of  his  folly ;  he  now  saw  how  happi- 
ness is  lost  when  ease  is  consulted;   he  lamented  the  un- 
manly impatience  that  prompted  him  to  seek  shelter  in  the 
grove,  and  despised  the  petty  curiosity  that  led  him  on 
from  trifle  to  trifle.    While  he  was  thus  reflecting,  the  air 
grew  blacker  and  a  clap  of  thunder  broke  his  meditation. 

9.  He  now  resolved  to  do  what  remained  yet  in  his 
power;   to  tread  back  the  ground  which  he  had  passed, 
and  try  to  find  some  issue  where  the  wood  might  open  into 
the  plain.     He  prostrated  himself  upon  the  ground,  and 
commended  his  life  to  the  Lord  of  nature.     He  rose  with 
confidence  and  tranquillity,  and  pressed  on  with  his  saber 
in  his  hand ;  for  the  beasts  of  the  desert  were  in  motion, 
and  on  every  hand  were  heard  the  mingled  howls  of  rage, 
and  fear,  and  ravage,  and  expiration;   all  the  horrors  of 
darkness  and  solitude  surrounded  him ;  the  winds  roared  in 
the  woods,  and  the  torrents  tumbled  from  the  hills. 

10.  Thus,  forlorn  and  distressed,  he  wandered  through 
the  wild  without  knowing  whither  he  was  going  or  whether 


#46  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

he  was  every  moment  drawing  nearer  to  safety  or  to  de- 
struction. At  length,  not  fear  but  labor  began  to  over- 
come him ;  his  breath  grew  short,  and  his  knees  trembled^ 
and  he  was  on  the  point  of  lying  down,  in  resignation  to 
his  fate,  when  he  beheld,  through  the  brambles,  the  glim- 
mer of  a  taper.  He  advanced  toward  the  light,  and  find- 
ing that  it  proceeded  from  the  cottage  of  a  hermit,  he 
called  humbly  at  the  door,  and  obtained  admission.  The 
old  man  set  before  him  such  provisions  as  he  had  collected 
for  himself,  on  which  Obidah  fed  with  eagerness  and  grat- 
itude. 

11.  When  the  repast  was  over,   "Tell  me,"  said   the 
hermit,  "by  what  chance  thou  hast  been  brought  hither; 
I  have  been  now  twenty  years  an  inhabitant  of  this  wilder- 
ness, in  which  I  never  saw  a  man  before."     Obidah  then 
related  the  occurrences  of  his  journey,  without  any  conceal- 
ment or  palliation. 

12.  "  Son,"  said  the  hermit,  "  let  the  errors  and  follies, 
the  dangers  and  escapes,  of  this  day,  sink  deep  into  your 
heart.     Bern  ember,  my  son,  that  human  life  is  the  journey 
of  a  day.     We  rise  in  the  morning  of  youth,  full  of  vigor, 
and  full  of  expectation;   we  set  forward  with  spirit  and 
hope,  with  gayety  and  with  diligence,  and  travel  on  awhile 
in  the  straight  road  of  piety  toward  the  mansions  of  rest. 
In  a  short  time  we  remit  our  fervor,  and  endeavor  to  find 
some  mitigation  of  our  duty,  and  some  more  easy  means  of 
obtaining  the  same  end. 

13.  "  We  then  relax  our  vigor,  and  resolve  no  longer  to 
be  terrified  with  crimes  at  a  distance,  but  rely  upon  our 
own  constancy,  and  venture  to  approach  what  we  resolve 
never  to  touch.     We  thus  enter  the  bowers   of  ease,  and 
repose  in  the  shades  of  security.     Here  the  heart  softens, 
and  vigilance   subsides;   we   are   then   willing  to   inquire 
whether  another  advance  can  not  be  made,  and  whether  we 
may  not  at  least  turn  our  eyes  upon  the  gardens  of  pleas- 
ure.    We  approach  them  with  scruple  and  hesitation;  we 


FIFTH    READER.  347 

enter  them,  but  enter  timorous  and  trembling,  and  always 
hope  to  pass  through  them  without  losing  the  road  of 
virtue,  which  we  for  a  while  keep  in  our  sight,  and  to 
which  we  propose  to  return. 

14.  "  But  temptation  succeeds  temptation,  and  one  com- 
pliance prepares  us  for  another ;  we,  in  time,  lose  the  hap- 
piness of  innocence,  and  solace  our  disquiet  with  sensual 
gratifications.     By  degrees  we  let  fall  the  remembrance  of 
our  original  intention,  and  quit  the  only  adequate  object  of 
rational  desire.     We  entangle  ourselves   in  business,  im- 
merge  ourselves  in  luxury,  and  rove  through  the  labyrinths 
of  inconstancy  till  the  darkness  of  old  age  begins  to  invade 
us,  and  disease  and  anxiety  obstruct  our  way.     We  then 
look  back  upon  our  lives  with  horror,  with  sorrow,  and 
with  repentance ;  and  wish,  but  too  often  vainly  wish,  that 
we  had  not  forsaken  the  paths  of  virtue. 

15.  "Happy  are  they,  my  son,  who  shall  learn,  from 
thy  example,  not   to   despair,   but   shall   remember   that 
though  the  day  is  past,  and  their  strength  is  wasted,  there 
yet  remains  one  effort  to  be  made;   that  reformation  is 
never  hopeless,  nor  sincere  endeavors  ever  unassisted ;  that 
the  wanderer  may  at  length  return  after  all  his  errors; 
and  that  he  who  implores  strength  and  courage  from  above, 
shall  find  danger  and  difficulty  give  way  before  him.     Go 
now,  my  son,  to  thy  repose :  commit  thyself  to  the  care  of 
Omnipotence;   and  when  the  morning  calls  again  to  toil, 
begin  anew  thy  journey  and  thy  life." 


DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  Car-a-van  sa-ry,  a  kind  of  inn  in  the  East, 
where  caravans  (or  large  companies  of  traders')  rest  at  night.  5.  Me- 
an'derg,  windings,  turnings.  6.  Cir-eum-vo-lu'tions,  windings  or 
flowings  around.  7.  De-vi-a'tions,  wanderings  from  one's  course. 
9.  Ex-pi-ra'tion,  death.  11.  Pal-li-a'tion,  concealment  of  the  most 
blamable  circumstances  of  an  offense.  12.  Mit-i-ga'tion,  abatement, 
the  act  of  rendering  less  severe.  14.  Ad'e-quate,  fully  sufficient. 
Lab'y-rlnth,  a  place  full  of  winding  passages. 


348  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


CXIV.    A  SUMMER  LONGING. 


George  Arnold  (&.  1834,  d.  1865)  was  born  in  New  York,  but  removed 
with  his  parents  to  Illinois  while  yet  an  infant.  There  he  passed  his 
boyhood,  being  educated  at  home  by  his  parents.  In  1849  the  family 
again  removed  to  Strawberry  Farms,  Monmouth  County,  N.J.  When 
eighteen  years  old  he  began  to  study  painting,  but  soon  gave  up  the  art 
and  devoted  himself  to  literature.  He  became  a  journalist  of  New  York 
City,  and  his  productions  include  almost  every  variety  of  writings  found 
in  the  literary  magazines.  After  his  death,  two  volumes  of  his  poems, 
"Drift:  a  Seashore  Idyl,"  and  "Poems,  Grave  and  Gay,"  were  edited 
by  Mr.  William  Winter. 


1.  I  MUST  away  to  the  wooded  hills  and  vales, 

Where  broad,  slow  streams  flow  cool  and  silently 
And  idle  barges  flap  their  listless  sails. 
For  me  the  summer  sunset  glows  and  pales, 

And  green  fields  wait  for  me. 

2.  I  long  for  shadowy  founts,  where  tho  birds 

Twitter  and  chirp  at  noon  from  every  tree; 
I  long  for  blossomed  leaves  and  lowing  herds; 
And  Nature's  voices  say  in  mystic  words, 

uThe  green  fields  wait  for  thee." 

3.  I  dream  of  uplands,  where  the  primrose  shines 

And  waves  her  yellow  lamps  above  the  lea; 
Of  tangled  copses,  swung  with  trailing  vines; 
Of  open  vistas,  skirted  with  tall  pines, 

Where  green  fields  wait  for  me. 

4.  I  think  of  long,  sweet  afternoons,  when  I 

May  lie  and  listen  to  the  distant  sea, 
Or  hear  the  breezes  in  the  reeds  that  sigh, 
Or  insect  voices  chirping  shrill  and  dry, 

In  fields  that  wait  for  me. 


FIFTH    READER.  349 

5.   These  dreams  of  summer  come  to  bid  me  find 

The  forest's  shade,  the  wild  bird's  melody, 
While  summer's  rosy  wreaths  for  me  are  twined, 
While  summer's  fragrance  lingers  on  the  wind, 
And  green  fields  wait  for  me. 


CXV.     FATE. 


Francis  Bret  Harte  (&.  1839,  )  was   born    in    Albany,    N.Y. 

When  seventeen  years  old  he  went  to  California,  where  he  engaged  in 
various  employments.  He  was  a  teacher,  was  employed  in  government 
offices,  worked  in  the  gold  mines,  and  learned  to  be  a  compositor  in  a 
printing  office.  In  1868  he  started  the  "  Overland  Monthly,"  and  his 
original  and  characteristic  poems  and  sketches  soon  made  it  a  popular 
magazine.  Mr.  Harte  has  been  a  contributor  to  some  of  the  leading 
periodicals  of  the  country,  but  principally  to  the  "Atlantic  Monthly." 


1.  "THE  sky  is  clouded,  the  rocks  are  bare; 
The  spray  of  the  tempest  is  white  in  air; 
The  winds  are  out  with  the  waves  at  play, 
And  I  shall  not  tempt  the  sea  to-day. 

2.  "The  trail  is  narrow,  the  wood  is  dim, 
The  panther  clings  to  the  arching  limb; 
And  the  lion's  whelps  are  abroad  at  play, 
And  I  shall  not  join  in  the  chase  to-day." 

3.  But  the  ship  sailed  safely  over  the  sea, 

And  the  hunters  came  from  the  chase  in  glee; 
And  the  town  that  was  builded  upon  a  rock 
Was  swallowed  up  in  the  earthquake  shock. 


350  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 


CXVI.    THE  BIBLE  THE  BEST  OF   CLASSICS. 

Thomas  S.  GrimkS  (&.  1786,  d.  1834).  This  eminent  lawyer  and 
scholar  was  born  in  Charleston,  S.C.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College  in 
1807.  He  gained  considerable  reputation  as  a  politician,  but  is  best 
known  as  an  advocate  of  peace,  Sunday  schools,  and  the  Bible.  He  was 
a  man  of  deep  feeling,  earnest  purpose,  and  pure  life. 

1.  THERE  is  a  classic,  the  best  the  world  has  ever  seen, 
the  noblest  that  has  ever  honored  and  dignified  the  lan- 
guage of  mortals.     If  we  look  into  its  antiquity,  we  dis- 
cover a  title  to  our  veneration  unrivaled  in  the  history  of 
literature.     If  we  have  respect  to  its  evidences,  they  are 
found  in  the  testimony  of  miracle  and  prophecy;    in  the 
ministry  of  man,  of  nature,  and  of  angels,  yea,  even  of 
"God,  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  of  "God  blessed  forever." 

2.  If  we  consider  its  authenticity,  no  other  pages  have 
survived  the  lapse  of  time  that  can  be  compared  with  it. 
If  we  examine  its  authority,  for  it  speaks  as  never  man 
spake,  we  discover  that  it  came  from  heaven  in  vision  and 
prophecy  under  the  sanction  of  Him  who  is  Creator  of  all 
things,  and  the  Giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 

3.  If  we  reflect  on  its  truths,  they  are  lovely  and  spot- 
less, sublime  and  holy  as  God  himself,  unchangeable  as  his 
nature,  durable  as  his  righteous  dominion,  and  versatile  as 
the  moral  condition  of  mankind.     If  we  regard  the  value 
of  its  treasures,  we  must  estimate  them,  not  like  the  relics 
of  classic  antiquity,  by  the  perishable  glory  and  beauty, 
virtue  and  happiness,  of  this  world,  but  by  the  enduring 
perfection  and  supreme  felicity  of  an  eternal  kingdom. 

4.  If  we  inquire  who  are  the  men  that  have  recorded  its 
truths,  vindicated  its  rights,  and  illustrated  the  excellence 
of  its  scheme,  from  the  depth  of  ages  and  from  the  living 
world,  from  the  populous  continent  and  the  isles  of  the  sea, 
comes  forth  the  answer :  "  The  patriarch  and  the  prophet, 
the  evangelist  and  the  martyr." 

5.  If  we  look  abroad  through  the  world  of  men,  the 
victims  of  folly  or  vice,  the  prey  of  cruelty,  of  injustice, 


FIFTH    READER.  351 

and  inquire  what  are  its  benefits,  even  in  this  temporal 
state,  the  great  and  the  humble,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
the  powerful  and  the  weak,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant 
reply,  as  with  one  voice,  that  humility  and  resignation, 
purity,  order,  and  peace,  faith,  hope,  and  charity  are  its 
blessings  upon  earth. 

6.  And  if,  raising  our  eyes  from  time  to  eternity ;  from 
the  world  of  mortals  to  the  world  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect;   from  the  visible  creation,  marvelous,  beautiful,  and 
glorious  as   it  is,  to  the  invisible  creation  of  angels  and 
seraphs;  from  the  footstool  of  God  to  the  throne  of  God 
himself,  we  ask,  what  are  the  blessings  that  flow  from  this 
single  volume,  let  the  question  be  answered  by  the  pen  of 
the  evangelist,  the  harp  of  the  prophet,  and  the  records  of 
the  book  of  life. 

7.  Such  is  the  best  of  classics  the  world  has  ever  ad- 
mired ;  such,  the  noblest  that  man  has  ever  adopted  as  a 
guide. 

DEFINITIONS.  —  1.  -Clas'sie,  a  work  of  acknowledged  excellence 
and  authority.  2.  Au-then-t^'i-ty,  of  established  authority  for  truth 
and  correctness.  Sane'tion  (pro.  sank'shun),  authority,  support. 
3.  Ver'sa-tile,  readily  applied  to  various  subjects.  4.  Vln  di-eat-ed, 
defended,  justified.  E-van' gel-is t,  a  writer  of  the  history  of  Jesus 
Christ.  6.  Ser'aph,  an  angel  of  the  highest  order. 


CXVII.    MY  MOTHER'S  BIBLE. 

George  P.  Morris  (6.  1802,  d.  1864)  was  born  in  Philadelphia.  In 
1823  he  became  one  of  the  editors  of  the  "  New  York  Mirror,"  a  weekly 
literary  paper.  In  1846  Mr.  Morris  and  N.  P.  Willis  founded  "  The  Home 
Journal."  He  was  associate  editor  of  this  popular  journal  until  a  short 
time  before  his  death. 

1.   THIS  book  is  all  that's  left  me  now, — 

Tears  will  unbidden  start, — 
With  faltering  lip  and  throbbing  brow 
I  press  it  to  my  heart. 


352  ECLECTIC    SERIES. 

For  many  generations  past 

Here  is  our  family  tree; 
My  mother's  hands  this  Bible  clasped, 

She,  dying,  gave  it  me. 

2.  Ah!   well  do  I  remember  those 

Whose  names  these  records  bear; 
"Who  round  the  hearthstone  used  to  close, 

After  the  evening  prayer, 
And  speak  of  what  these  pages  said 

In  tones  my  heart  would  thrill ! 
Though  they  are  with  the  silent  dead, 

Here  are  they  living  still! 

3.  My  father  read  this  holy  book 

To  brothers,  sisters,  dear; 
How  calm  was  my  poor  mother's  look, 

Who  loved  God's  word  to  hear! 
Her  angel  face,  —  I  see  it  yet! 

What  thronging  memories  come! 
Again  that  little  group  is  met 

Within  the  walls  of  home! 

4.  Thou  truest  friend  man  ever  knew, 

Thy  constancy  I've  tried; 
When  all  were  false,  I  found  thee  true, 

My  counselor  and  guide. 
The  mines  of  earth  no  treasures  give 

That  could  this  volume  buy; 
In  teaching  me  the  way  to  live, 

It  taught  me  how  to  die. 


